


Amongst All Creatures Wild and Tame

by batyalewbel



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Also there will be lots of medical and scientific innacuracy sorry, Also umm TRIGGERS...There are in depth descriptions of panic attacks some claustrophobia and like, Altered Mental States, Angst, Hermann POV, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, People who know how to tag possible triggers, Um I started writing without a clear plot in mind, but it's going there now and it's awesome!, fair warning this is not a fic where they do the do I'm sorry, it takes about 12 chapters to get some new direction, newton POV, tell me if this needs specific tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 54,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1294243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batyalewbel/pseuds/batyalewbel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you drift with a monster? Even one in pieces? What happens when you drift with broken things and broken people? Who is broken and who is breaking?</p><p>A story of what comes after the drift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter beta'd by my sister thepsychoticchef on Tumblr. Thank her for this chapters humorous parentheticals.
> 
> I will say this fic definitely has some plot overlap with other fics out there...I started writing without a clear plan and it took me about 12 chapters to start getting my new ideas in there. It is what it is.  
> (I will say I think writing-wise I kind of hit the right stride around chapter 9)

What happens to a pickled kaiju brain? It’s kind of a strange question to ask, but after he invited a piece of fractured hivemind all up in his neural space, he had found himself devoting time to it. Or…well by devoting time...

He and Hermann were still at the Shatterdome post Averted Apocalypse via Genius Rock Star, Newton Geiszler, and handy Neural Load Sidekick, Hermann Gottlieb (with guest appearance by Baby Otachi), for the time being…

Many people were convinced that the kaiju were gone for good, but the world wanted to know more about them, which strings back to Newt, the eminent kaiju expert that he is, will certainly be called to continue his studies. Hermann will be drawn into a similar situation concerning the Rift. The world wanted to fully understand its creation, existence, and the possibility of it reappearing.  
Whether these studies would continue at the Shatterdome or elsewhere is...well, it’s only the first day after the world didn't end, so people might change their minds. Also Hermann...

He got in on the neural action at the end there. Newt’s fairly positive that Hermann didn’t sleep much last night. He didn’t ask for confirmation either. They haven’t talked much since the drift. There’s an unspoken agreement between them. A lot is unspoken because, thank you, drifting. They got to see pieces of the other person’s past, and some more religious creatures might say they knew each other’s souls now. Newt was a little too scientific for that.

He had fragments. Much like the piece of dead kaiju brain, he had pieces of Hermann in his head. Fragments of memory that were far too personal for 10 year colleagues to share, but there they were. And Newt could barely guess what Hermann had gleaned from the drift.

That day…oh that day…

After Mako and Raleigh surfaced from the fucking anteverse (how does one drop that little fact bomb casually in a sentence or thought?), everyone in the control room breathed a sigh of relief.

There were survivors.  
The world hadn’t ended.  
Newt was on a massively intense we-aren’t-going-to-die-screaming sort of high. He hadn’t really had time to think about the drift after him and Hermann had simultaneously latched on to the most important facts and ran back to the Shatterdome…

Well… more like walked quickly… Hermann was not a runner, and Newt was just about done with physical exertion for the day. Running from Otachi has that effect on people.

But in the Shatterdome, he had grinned and slung an arm around Hermann’s shoulders, and the man actually smiled back. Everybody was laughing, and there was even some drinking (some being a serious understatement).

But after a few shots all around, the partying had grown quiet.

There were survivors, and there were casualties.

It hit him right around his fourth drink. He knocked it back, same as the others, but the smile didn’t follow. The shouting and the music seemed somewhat muted. A glance across the table showed that Hermann was watching him. He wasn’t smiling either. Newt leaned back in his chair

 _Woah_ , his brain informed him. He felt dizzy and nauseous, and it wasn’t just the alcohol.  
Oh yeah, he drifted twice in… less than 48 hours. Yeah, he had drifted using an antiquated interface that he pieced together. The first drift had been alone.  
He thought felt like shit before, and after adding four shots of vodka into the mix…  
Oh he felt awful.

Hermann wasn’t smiling…maybe he felt a bit off? He did throw up right after the drift into a conveniently placed toilet (thank you Otachi for whatever bit of destruction put a toilet right there). Hermann had only drifted once on his own, and dealt with 50% of the neural load in said drift…Newt did some quick math and figured that he had handled 150% neural load over the last 48 hours.

_Fuck_

He mumbled something and stood up from his chair. Tendo and Mako noted the standing, and whatever he had just said, and seemed satisfied. Hermann didn’t move. Newton tried to not meet his eyes, when he found his senses flooded.

_Hermann is fifteen years old and a physical therapist grips his calf. She’s telling him to push or pull or do something. They’ve been at this for thirty-six minutes and Hermann is dripping with sweat from the effort and the agony. His hands grip the sides the bed so hard his fingers are numb._

_He has twenty-four minutes to go._

Newt jerked back to the present to find himself staring at the floor. That was good. If he had been staring at Hermann it would have gotten weird.

He needed to get out of there. The air felt like it was suffocating him, and Newt suddenly had the urge to crawl out of his skin. The gaze of his drift partner felt like it could drill holes in his skull. Geez, why couldn’t the man just speak like a normal person?

Oh, he would need to throw up in a minute. He was miraculously able to run to the nearest toilet where the remains of the vodka, and what appeared to be traces of his last meal, ended up in the toilet. Well, mostly in the toilet (also strategically placed, but by no doing of Otachi).

He stared at the rim of the bowl, breathing heavily until he was positive nothing else would escape his stomach via his mouth. Once he was certain, he dropped his head onto his arms and slumped down onto the floor.

He hadn’t had time to think about the drift, and he wished he had done a little more thinking before those shots. He shut his eyes and scenes from the drift played like some avante garde film behind his eyelids.

_—Kill maim destroy feel flesh rip feel buildings crumble joy and—_

_—Somebody decided on giant robots. An inelegant solution to these aliens, but already his mind buzzes with the equations that could build one. Imagine the balance and counter balance required for such a thing to walk. And the size to match those…what are they calling them? Kai—_

_—kaiju tear kaiju kill watch them suffer watch them die_

_—He had been sipping coffee with the tv on. He wasn’t awake yet. Suddenly, it was on every channel. This new thing crashing through San Francisco and tearing into a building like it was piece of crusty bread, and he was awake, and scared and excited—_

_—bleed them dry open them up fill them blue dead dying blood kill tear rip die—_

Newt’s ears were full of sound, and it took a minute to realize it was his own screaming.

Alone in a toilet.

After drifting with a piece of pickled kaiju brain, followed by a dying baby kaiju.

He dragged himself back up to the rim of the toilet and heaved. He was running on empty.

His hands shook as he wiped his mouth and he sat beside the toilet, feeling sick, dirty, and possibly close to crying. He wiped at his nose with the back of his arm and stared at the red smear that resulted on his skin.

What was his brain going to be after he shared it with a kaiju? Just the thought of kaiju brought sharp, violent, cerulean notions to the surface. He sort of wished Hermann would magically sense his need and appear in this bathroom with him in some convenient display of ghost drift side effects.

But after several minutes of gasping and shaking, no help came.

He had shared his mind with a hivemind and one grumpy mathematician. It had been so very crowded, and now that the world was saved and all was calm…

He felt very alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I just want to say if you have thoughts on fic I would appreciate hearing them :)
> 
> So one of those memory blips was Newton's own memories idk how clear that is....Also I have been wanting to write something for these two assholes for awhile now. Please note I marked this as slash because I ship them but I doubt this fic will go farther than cuddling
> 
> The title is a lyric from a Mountain Goats song called How to Embrace a Swamp Creature. Fitting right?
> 
> Comments are super appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A parallel for chapter 1 from Hermann's perspective.
> 
> Beta's by my sister, Thepsychoticchef from tumblr. Thank her for the commas. There were less of them before

Hermann Gottlieb distinctly knew that his life would inevitably see an increase in misery. He knew it when the kaiju first appeared on his screen, but he realized it acutely the day he found Newton Geiszler with that contraption on his head seizing on the floor.

The idea of ‘before’ and ‘after’ is simplistic and tiresome.

And yet his life seems to continually fall into such categories.

Before the kaiju, and After the kaiju.

And now; Before the drift, and After the drift.

Before the breach, Hermann had no understanding of kaiju beyond their basic biological principals and their wanton destruction. Once more unto the breach, dear friends

Once more

And now he knows; it is a mindless, wordless, unending, undying need to kill, and conquer. He now knows what it is to feel joy from watching buildings crumble while tiny beings run screaming in terror of him.

Hermann wants to scream a little bit.

There hadn’t been much time post drift to settle and think. His mind was a knot he would have to untangle later. And he did…eventually.

First they saved the world. Mako Mori, Stacker Pentacost, Chuck Hansen, Raleigh Beckett, Herc Hansen, Tendo Choi, Newton, and…well…himself…a bit. He tried not to dwell on the number of people on that list who didn’t make it to see a world safe from monsters.

And after everyone still alive was safe, the rest of the night spun away from him in a euphoric haze. Newton had grabbed him in a one armed hug, and he smiled. Staying close to the other man, they walked to the main hanger of the Shatterdome together where the gathering for the Apocalypse Has Been Averted party had begun. Hermann was exhausted, but happy to let the throngs of people sweep him along towards the oncoming merriment.

Newton was talking about something. Hermann barely listened. It sounded like he was recounting some highlight of the day. Was it for him or somebody else? That arm was still draped over his shoulder and he found himself pulled—

 — _It’s his first tattoo. The tattoo artist is calm and focused. Her hand grips the tool that will inject ink into the dermis layer of his skin. It whirs and hums as she flicks the switch. He expected pain, but this is beyond what he thought he could take. He sits there and doesn’t make a sound. He deserves_ —

— _endless blue dripping from the sky from the ground it’s everywhere kaiju are everwhe_ —

— _Mom is shouting at him again. He feels small in the room with her. She takes up all the space in the room and all the air. He tries very hard not to cr_ —

— _he is walking, his hand clutches the verdammt cane and his leg ache_ s and—

— _crush them all andfeel them break the metal and the bonebite it open tear them apar_ —

 “Dude, you still with me?” Hermann felt pale and empty. He was still stumbling along as they neared the entrance to the hanger. Newton seemed to have gotten ahead of him and had stopped to wait for Hermann to catch up.

 “You ok?” Hermann saw how exhausted and exhilarated the other man looked. Hermann must have looked that way earlier. Now he felt strange, like he was no longer Hermann Gottlieb. Like his sense of self had been misplaced or replaced.  
He simply nodded and followed Dr. Geiszler. He definitely needed a drink.  
Or several

He honestly wasn’t sure which was worse; having memories that weren’t his own where he delights in the death of humanity, or Newton’s memories that he shouldn’t have. They’re too personal, and Newton must have similar memories of Hermann’s past embedded somewhere in that thick skull of his. He would discover them soon enough.

At some point during the drinking frenzy, while Newton was taking a shot with Tendo _(or was it Becket?)_ , Hermann noticed Newton flicker as his expression went blank. The flame of his excitement extinguished. Was he remembering the dead? Or was he remembering a memory that wasn’t his? Hermann dreaded the answer, and when Newton looked at him in fear, he was quite certain which it was. Next thing he knew, Newton was stumbling out of the hanger. Hermann could only watch him go, his mouth a thin line.

Eventually the noise of the crowd and the smell of alcohol began suffocating him. He stood up and said goodbye to Ms. Mori, Mr. Beckett, and Mr. Choi. They waved at him, giggling and intoxicated.

Hermann trudged down the fairly empty halls. Most of the sane people were either sleeping or drinking. His cane tapped an unsteady rhythm that echoed down the hallway and back in his ears.

After the noise, the people, and the voices that had inhabited his mind died down, the quiet was…unsettling. Eventually he reached the door to his room and sat on the step in front of it. Something about shutting himself away, by himself, in the dark, was abruptly and irrationally terrifying.

He leaned his head against the door.

Hermann was very stupid, said a voice in his head. But was the voice his own or somebody else’s? He couldn’t say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would appreciate comments if you have any :)
> 
> Geez I am a bucket of laughs aren't I? I swear I like happy fics I just apparently needed to start this in the most depressing way possible.  
> I kind of want to write a longer fic but I never do that so we will see what happens next.
> 
> Also yes I made a Shakespeare reference I have been on a bit of a kick with him lately


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by grammar badass and sister. Look her up as Thepsychoticchef on Tumblr

 — _He is surrounded by them; drowning in sapphire. He needs to run but he can’t get away. The weight is crushing him. They step closer and smile. Someone is shouting about equations, but nobody is listening_ —  
  
Newt opens his eyes.

It is the morning after the world didn’t end, and Newt has a realization that something might be wrong with him.  
Is ‘wrong’ the right word?  
What would the word be?  
Well, he knew the words that might apply to the current situation. Words he didn’t want to speak aloud, let alone think.  
  
Last night, after puking in the toilet followed by some other stuff…possibly crying…maybe crying…ok fine, he was crying. He hobbled back to his quarters in a semi drunken stupor. He thought it was just the alcohol, but this morning he woke up and…wow. This was not good.  
He had not drunk nearly enough to feel this hungover…certainly not enough to feel like maybe his head would be more useful if it were removed from his shoulders.

Eventually he tries to move and wow…body not wanting to obey mind…not good…very not good. He stands and fumbles with his glasses. Wow his eyes hurt. And wearing his glasses has no effect on the pain but it makes him really dizzy.  
  
The cogs are turning very slowly.  
  
Oh look, there’s blood on his pillow.

.

.

Shit, that’s not good.

Fragments of the previous night slowly begin to trickle back to him.

World saving

Hermann staring

The dr i  f   t  .   .    .

Newt can’t remember the drift.  
  
There’s nothing but blue and hobbling with a cane because, fuck his leg hurt

Hermann’s leg

He can’t really remember the drift

His brain has overloaded

His brain has adapted

…or tri e d…

 …to a d ap t…

Oh right, he was still standing.

He should go put clothes on.

How did that go again?

By some miracle he manages to successfully put on pants, but when he realizes his shirt is on inside out, it takes him a full minute of staring at the inner seams to figure out what the next step is.

That’s when the thought that something might be wrong slowly drips down into the pit of his stomach.

The words he doesn’t want to use are ‘brain damage’.

Who has brain damage?

Did the kaiju damage his brain?

The kaiju were all dead now—

— _we will find them we will cut them rip them kill killkill kaiju seek kaiju destro_ —

Newt is on the floor, gasping.

His nose is bleeding and the shaking has intensified.

 _Intensity intensifies_ , his brain mutters unhelpfully, while another part informs him  _this is how super villains are made._ Thanks for that.

After lying there for awhile and becoming increasingly afraid of his own brain, he struggles to his feet again, because…honestly, he was a little afraid of what might happen if he just stayed in this room alone with his mind.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for him to fix his shirt. He possibly, maybe, sort of, bled on it…a little bit.  
  
He was pretty sure it wasn’t that bad.

He slowly grabs a jacket from his closet. Not the leather one that had been covered in kaiju guts- oh god he just managed to stand  _stop it, Newton._

This one is not _nearly_ as cool; it’s just some old jacket, but it’ll do. It’ll probably cover up that blood spot on his shirt, so that’s a win.  
  
And after wrestling with which arm to put through which sleeve of the jacket, he manages to get out the door, and head for the K-science lab.  
Not medical…noooope…not medical. Nowhere near medical.  
  
Nope, Newt is fine.

Newt is dandy.

Newt is walking and that is also a win.

Because Newt is a winner.

A winner of science and averting the apocalypse like a rock star.  
  
And most definitely not brain damaged.

 _Nope_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated^_^
> 
> AND REFERENCES: Um Newton was born in 1990 which means he was a twenty something when Community aired so yes that line is a community reference because I firmly believe Newton loved Community. Also the line before it is just a stupid meme. Newt would know about those too I think. Newton would have been on Tumblr.
> 
> And so at this point I have to just mention that I have been reading a lot of Newton and Herm fic and while I am literally pulling this out of my ass as I go, I cannot deny I see some parallels to some great stuff I’ve read. Y’all should read Designations Congruent with Things by cleanwhiteroom and also the From Out of The Ocean Risen series. There is definitely a certain amount of overlap in the setup of the plot...I have future plot ideas that will go down currently unexplored avenues(Unless somebody else has already thought of and written the same ideas elsewhere in which case fuck all)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has been edited by my rockstar sister. She is Thepsychoticchef on Tumblr

          Waking up the next day has not been fun for Hermann. The experience was somewhat akin to the worst hangover he had ever experienced. He finds himself having difficulty remembering what had happened the day before, but as it all pieces together; he realizes he can’t remember the drift.

          Clearly he was compartmentalizing, or his mind has done it for him. Some part of him concluded that his mind couldn’t handle the full effects of a drift on subpar equipment where one third of the drift was kaiju. He can recall flashes of what he experienced post drift. He can even vaguely recall the hellish nightmare he had just woken from; kaiju being ripped from skin were tearing him to pieces.  
  
          He supposes his subconscious now has plenty of material to torture him with for the foreseeable future. It also appears he had gotten a small nosebleed while he had slept; a few dots on the pillow, nothing more. He should probably go to medical, and yet some part of him seemed vehemently opposed to going to sit in an enclosed spaced and let someone with a medical doctorate examine him.

          Why does he feel this way? Could it possibly be some strange drift side effect? A slight bleeding between personalities?

          _Gutte got_. Wasn’t it enough that he saved that idiot man? He can imagine, with a vague sense of dread, Newton standing in a clean pressed shirt, his mouth in a thin line with one eyebrow raised. The image makes Hermann shudder. Newton was barely tolerable as Newton, let alone as Hermann.  
  
          He was dwelling when really; he wanted to get to the lab. The rift may be gone, but he can still study it. He can study how it collapsed; how it had appeared; whether the rift might open again.

          He heads for his chalkboard in the lab, for there is always safety in numbers. An hour or two passes, alone with his equations, where he’s able to forget that his leg hurts from all the running he had done.

          Then, Newton walks in.  
  
          Well, stumbles in.  
  
          Hermann loathes tearing himself away from the formula he’s working on, but he turns anyway, and Newton is…well, disheveled was a kind word. Newton had managed to dig up a leather jacket; it was a bit big on him, and it didn’t quite cover the stain on his shirt. His hair was as tangled and messy as the rest of him. Hermann opens his mouth to speak.  
          Memories of the previous night flitted through his mind; memories that aren’t his. He reddens and turns away. He’s almost afraid that Newton might want to compare notes. Instead, Newton is…quiet. Hermann watches from the corner of his eye as Newton looks at him, then turns away to wander unsteadily towards his desk. He practically falls out of his chair while trying to sit in it, and once successfully seated, did nothing but stare at the floor for a full minute before moving.  
          The words tumble out of his mouth before he has a chance to consider them…another Geiszlerian moment. “Are you drunk again, Newton?” The question hangs in the air for a long moment. Newton doesn’t look at him, and after a couple of seconds, he finally responds.  
           “Noooope,” he raises a hand like he is going to gesture with it, but seems to change his mind and clutch it back. His movements are slow; another oddity for Geiszler, considering the man usually seems to be running at twice the speed of everyone around him. Now the dial has been turned all the way back, and Hermann has seen him after parties. This is a whole new level of...  
           
          Newton seizing on the floor.  
          Two drifts.  
           
          Oh god Hermann is an idiot. He feels odd after his one drift, identifying actions and traits that don’t belong to him, and he hasn’t even begun to allow himself to think about the kaiju. What would happen if he started acting like them?  
           
          And Newton drifted.  
          Twice.  
          Oh no.

          He grabs his cane and hobbles across the room as Newton turns to look at him, his expression alarmed.  
          “You need to go to medical,” Hermann states, not leaving any room for suggestion.  
          “No,  _you_ need to go to medical,” Newton replies, not unlike a child. Hermann grips his cane tightly. He does not like having this conversation, nor where it might go.  
          “Newton, you drifted twice on junkyard equipment  _with a kaiju._ You need to be examined.”  
          “No way, dude. I’ll take some Tylenol, or whatever,” he flaps a hand, but Hermann sees the tremor in the movement. Newton watches as Hermann’s eyes follow his hand and makes a sound.  
          “Dude, its fine, look” he crumples up a piece of paper and lobs it at his trash can. It misses by several inches.  
          “See? Look at that. That is way closer than usual. That is a win, Herm, and also I’m fine. Go away.” Newton says casually, his speech speeding up as he talks. Towards the end, it sounds almost normal. And yet Hermann is angry, because Newton is most probably very far from fine. Miles from something remotely even close to fine, and naturally that idiot would refuse something sensible like medical care. And maybe…  
          Maybe...  
          Maybe there’s a slight possibility that Hermann could make himself go to medical if he was with Newton? Why in heaven’s name does he think that? He has no dependence on this insufferable man who is currently smiling up at him, looking worse than he has ever been before, and so utterly complacent. People are supposed to get along after the drift, but of course with someone like Newton, they would only get worse.  
          He exhales through his teeth, his breath sounding more like a hiss than normal human breath, and quickly turns away, praying that Newton didn’t notice how very kaiju-like it had sounded. He wonders what kafka-esque scenario might play out if a medical professional does not intervene, and he feels a deep unabiding terror for what a doctor might tell them.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I almost didn't get this out...it might suck a little...I really don't know where I'm going with it but I have ideas...and like...man I don't know medicine...I kind of figure Hermann is mostly going to get over this like one would a bad hangover or migraine...unless he is pressured in some way he is mostly ok but I think Newton might be almost bipolar for a bit. He might go through phases where he is really slow and tired and possibly depressed and then he will have his manic periods too...I said brain damage earlier but that was Newt guessing and well...Again I'm not a doctor
> 
> Also I will probably break my once a day update streak tomorrow. I have been asked to work overtime..*sigh..Also thanks for commenting on every chapter ShilohPheonix and don't worry about talking too much. I love a good chat :)
> 
> psssssst I would appreciate comments if you have any :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now edited by my sister! Check her out on tumblr as Thepsychoticchef!

So **,** Hermann seems pretty mad about things.

After he tried to get Newt to go to medical, which was a terrible idea _(why would he suggest something so awful?)_ , he stormed back to his side of the lab. To his safe number-y space on the other side of that duct tape line, where he resumed writing on his chalkboard with a kind of violent gusto that was a bit fascinating to watch. Newton had come in here to do something…  
  
…to do science…

Yeah…

Unfortunately his entire area of expertise is on a race of aliens that he helped annihilate, and some pieces of said alien race are currently floating in sickly yellows and greens encased in glass.

He is surrounded by pickled kaiju when really he prefers kosher dills.

Pickles are funny. He should think about pickles and not about all the malicious aliens he had helped exterminate. Especially not the one he drifted with as it died. He can't remember it's final thought but he remembers thoughts too big for his mind. Were they like humans when they died? Did they curl up and bleed out slowly and painfully? Did they have the capacity to weep in agony? Did they die screaming? Did they—

— _This is not end kaiju do not end kaiju continue kaiju kill pain kaiju maim death kaiju end death kill dying_ —

No, no, this can’t be how it is it can’t be.  
Memories that aren’t his.  
He is going to die by his own brain.  
He collapses onto the floor.  
“ _Newton!”_    
The sensation of drifting with a dying creature over and over again  
 — _kaiju maim death_ —  
he doesn’t feel the floor  
“ _Answer me!”_ _  
_ — _enddeath_ —  
He can’t see he can’t hear he can’t breathe—  
 _killdying_ —  
He seizes.

He stops.

He

lies

t he re

Hands are t ouch ing hi m. Somet hing is  u nder his h ead.  
  
He’s moved onto his side…And a voice…

“Newton can you hear me?”  
  
Voice shakes  
  
A hand on his shoulder  
  
Hermann’s hand.  
  
“Newton? Please say something?”  
  
Make the mouth move  
  
“Some” Close enough.

Hermann’s sighs and then gets angry. “You stupid ingrate! Has this happened before?”  
“Wha?” his mouth feels weird. He wants to touch the kaiju pickle jars.  
“Can you stand?” Hermann looks like he could rip somebody’s face off. What does he do with a face that isn’t on a head? What is a kaiju without half a brain? He feels like he might stop breathing again.  
  
“ _Newton Focus!”_  Hermann practically shouts in his face. “Do you  _need help_   _standing_?” He is really enunciating his words…if he rolls an r Newton might be in trouble. How’s the mouth feeling now?

“I don’t know?” Not bad. He sounds strange in his own ears. Like something keening. Or possibly dying.

Hermann glares at him fiercely. It’s pretty murderous, but they are in a really death-y sort of space right now, so Newt can forgive that.

Hermann stands up with some difficulty, white knuckling his cane as he reaches down to grab Newt by the forearm. Newt allows himself to be tugged upwards. Once standing, Hermann lets go of Newt’s forearm; slowly. Newt wobbles slightly, and Hermann’s arm is back, weaving around his middle. Hermann looks disgusted by everything, but allows Newt to lean into him for support. 

Where did Hermann's big jacket go? Oh it's crumpled on the floor.

“Where are we going?” Newt finally thinks to ask. Hermann looks away, but Newt catches a flash of something that isn’t anger spreading across Hermann’s face; it scares him. Hermann answers him softly.

“We are going to get examined. You just had a seizure. Let some professionals have a look at you.”

Nope

“No.” He untangles himself from Hermann and stumbles away. He’s unsteady, but manages to find his desk and lean on it.

“Newton  _you just had a seizure_!” Hermann practically spits it at him. His face his reddening with rage.

“ _Yeah and?_ ” Newt can shout too.

Hermann looks ready to physically detonate when a voice interrupts.

“Are you both alright?” Mako stands alone in the doorway, wide eyed and disheveled. She looks like she woke up from last night’s party and just decided to take a walk through the Shatterdome. She doesn’t look at all like she just helped save the world.

Hermann doesn't deflate, so much as fall into himself.

“Fine. Do as you like, Newton.” He picks his jacket up off the floor...Oh right Newt had been lying there.

Hermann brushes by the other man and is out the door with no parting words aside from “Good day, Miss Mori.”

Suddenly, Mako and Newt are left alone.

“Dr. Geiszler, do you need a tissue?” Mako asks softly after watching the other man depart in a blaze of quiet fury. Newt is confused until he reaches up to touch his face and sees red on his fingers, again.

He stares at his hand until some white paper is placed over it.

Mako’s eyes are red rimmed, and her mouth is tight, but she gives him a small smile.

“Dr. Gottlieb sounded concerned.” Her words are soft as ever and carefully spoken.

“He sounded pissed.” Newt answers with a wave of his hand. She shrugs.

“I cannot say. I do not know him as you do.”

Really? Hermann poured his heart and soul into those Jaegers, and Mako was always there watching as they were pieced together from the ground up. And so was Hermann.

Honestly, it was no wonder they hated each other when Hermann’s passion was the Jaegers, and his were the killing kind that destroyed them.

He shakes his head and wipes his nose.

“I think you have that wrong, dude.”

She locks him down with a look. “I think I’m not,” the gaze breaks with a sigh. “I must be going…if you are having trouble and you need someone to speak to…” she trails off  
  
“Thanks Mako,”

She nods, bows her head, and is out the door.

Now he's alone, with the pickled kaiju.

Is that a good thing or a bad thing…

He can't say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a Mako! I love the whole cast of Pacific Rim and I do want to do more with side characters. I think next chapter might have Herc or Tendo.
> 
> Also I googled physical symptoms of a seizure and yeah that whole bit....there was no commas or periods...that was intentional. Idk what it added but I was hoping it would add to the intensity or something. And yeah the spacing thing. I'm hoping that is a little easier on the eyes than endless ellipses. It is just meant to indicate that things are slowing way down. Like slow motion slow but in Newt's head.
> 
> Also I made a supercos reference because THEY ARE THE BEST THING
> 
> Comments make me happy if you have any!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to my sister, thepsychoticchef on Tumblr, queen of commas and fixer of errors

Hermann is…

He starts but can’t seem to finish this thought.

What is he now? Is he a strange conglomeration of mathematician, idiot biologist, and alien species? If not literally then mentally? It’s becoming more defined now that the flashes have started in earnest.

He walks through the Shatterdome, not really paying attention to where he’s going because everything is bleeding blue. He’s seeing triplicate lives overlapping and is having difficulty remembering which is his own.

 – _He’s running away from home. His feet pounding against the pavement while his backpack bounces against his back. Is this stupid or best idea ever?_ – _Monsters are crushing the world underfoot and he can’t configure the data_ – _We do not sleep we do not stop_ – _Configure the data into a recognizable pattern_ – _He hung out in the lab because it was awesome, and eventually he wore the teacher down so he could_ – _He remembers the day when Caitlin died. How they had to pry her body from the device she was testing. Her first drift had not been stable. It had affected her mental capabili_ – _kill kill killkillkil_ –  
  
He loses his grip on his cane and stumbles.

For a brief moment it felt as though his heart might have physically stopped. He leans against a wall, gasping and shaking.

“Dr. Gottlieb, you ok?”

Officer Hercules Hansen is standing in the hall a few feet ahead of Hermann, looking rather unruffled considering the previous day’s events; although perhaps it was just that he always had a fair amount of stubble and dark circles under his eyes. He seems uncertain in his stance. Perhaps it is because he has never spoken to Hermann unless it pertained to the Jaegers.

But an apocalypse was recently averted. 

It seems everyone is struggling in new and strange rhythms.

A voice that sounds an awful lot like Newton informs him, _‘Dude, you threw off my groove!’_ A strange non-sequiter from a film he has never seen, and yet he can suddenly and inexplicably recite an entire scene from it.

He still hasn’t spoken, but he’s working on regaining composure. Officer Hansen is still standing there…still unsure…but patient.

“I…” he begins, but realizes that he has no idea what he wishes to convey. Does anyone in the PPDC know that he and Newton drifted? Should they find out? He should say something.

“I seem to be having an unusual day.”

Officer Hansen raises his eyebrows and then he…of all things…he laughs. short, sharp, and gone in a flash, but a sardonic smile remains. Hermann stares at him, bemused.

 “Dr. Gottlieb, that is one hell of an understatement,” he says with continued humor. Hermann’s lip twitches into a hint of a smile.

“I can see how it would be perceived as such,” he says only somewhat stiffly.

“Well, you look like shit right now, and I haven’t eaten anything yet. Come on,” Officer Hansen nods in the direction of the mess hall and sets off at an easy pace.

Hermann follows.

A few minutes later they arrive at the mess hall and he is making Hermann sit.

“I’ll grab us some trays.”

“I am perfectly able to get food for myself…I believe it’s ‘Marshall’ now?” The vehemence trailed off under the weight of his need to address the man appropriately.

Officer…Marshall Hansen stares at him, and for a brief moment, he looks a lot older.

“I’m getting you food because you look like death frozen over, and not because of your leg. So sit your ass down and I’ll be back in a minute,” his words lack the bite they might have once held.

“And the ‘Marshall’ thing isn’t exactly official yet, so don’t worry about it.” With that said he heads off into the mess lineto grab their trays, and Hermann decides that he isn’t annoyed with Officer Hansen’s sudden need to be helpful to others.

When he returns with two trays loaded with eggs, a muffin, and coffee, Herman says, “By the way, Officer Hansen, I should have said so earlier, but…I am sorry for your loss.”

The man freezes for a brief moment before setting the trays down and sitting across from Hermann.

The former ranger levels the doctor with an intense gaze.

“For future reference, it might be best if you didn’t spring your condolences on me without warning…”

Hermann opens his mouth to apologize, but the man waves it away with an odd expression.

“I haven’t really…ah… _adjusted_ might be the word. I keep forgetting, you know?” he says it to Hermann, and to the eggs on his plate, and the ceiling. It seems like he doesn’t want to stare at one thing for too long; doesn’t want to dwell.

Hermann nods but he is already switching topics.

“Today is not the day to ask me about Chuck, but I am curious to know why you were on the verge of a heart attack in the hall back there,” he says it in an almost amiable fashion. The way one might inquire to their friend about a recent sporting event.

Hermann opens his mouth to answer and shuts it.  New and old sets of instincts are warring in a way that stings at the back of his skull.

Finally, he settles on an answer,

“What if I were to say I can’t tell you right now, but that’s it is not an immediate emergency to anyone but myself.”

Officer Hansen was just getting ready to shovel some egg into his mouth. His fork pauses and hovers before his mouth.

 “It wouldn’t have anything to do with Dr. Geiszler, would it?”

Damn him to hell. Hermann turns bright pink and stares at the table choosing not to respond.

“Alright, Hermann, relax. Just…maybe tell me about it someday. I bet it’s one hell of a story.” He takes his bite of eggs, shooting Hermann a friendly but piercing look. It’s unnerving, yet slightly comforting all at once.

Hermann simply nods and reaches for his fork.

They eat in a companionable silence as the Shatterdome slowly wakes up around them.

It’s almost noon, and Hermann is still thinking about the phrase ‘one hell of a story’

This has two meanings.

The better meaning is simply a wild tale to tell one day.

The other is….well…a hellish story.

He wonders which it will be in the end, and unfortunately, he leans towards the latter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh heavens ok....so the eggs have a whole story that the world may know SOMEDAY....it was tragic on a Shakespearean level.
> 
> Also ok...so the prose is pretty much Hermann's POV...it is reflecting his thoughts 99% of the time...and Hermann would not call Herc...Herc...he probably wouldn't even call him Hercules, it's not like they know each other that well. He would call him by his title...but Mr. Hansen sounded awful in prose...he is technically maybe Marshall but thats not official...he could just call him Hansen but that also sounded awful...soooo  
> Officer Hansen....:C  
> Honestly they are going to get to first names in the next chapter because 'officer hansen' makes my eyes bleed
> 
> If you have any comments I would love to read them!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is beta's by my sister thepsychoticchef on tumblr. Corrections are currently underway...more commas may be added in the coming hours/day

Newt sits and stares at the floating kaiju pieces for a long time. Pickled kaiju. In a jar.

What is he going to do with this information?

It’s not new information. It’s old actually, really old.  

One of the smaller tanks has a piece of claw off of Meathead that he received two years ago. It’s still here.

And thebrain; the big, dead, pickled brain…Kaiju don’t think in terms of names, and he is pretty sure it’s Tailsplitter’s brain, but he can barely remember where his cane is. He can’t be sure of things like that

He probably shouldn’t have shouted at Hermann

He wonders what would happen if he dove into the tank and got right up next to that brain. What would happen if he touched it?

‘ _Formaldehyde, Newton_.’ His brain informs him viciously, sounding a little British? Weird.

So, he won’t jump in with the kaiju brain. Probably…possibly…it’s like, 50/50 at this point.

Why does Hermann want to go to the medical bay so badly anyway? They’re both standing and talking. That’s pretty awesome.

Ok, Newt kind of lost both those capabilities for a short time earlier, but he’s fine. No big deal.

People have seizures sometimes. He bets loads of cool people have seizures _all the time_. And it was just a little one. He can walk it off. Because he is a winner

‘ _Keep telling yourself that, Geiszler_.’

What is with the British inner voice today?

It’s no big thing…he tells himself and tries to remember something important.                                 

There was something important.

After that first drift his whole brain felt a little sticky. The hours that followed were tinted blue.

He had regained consciousness to a panicked Hermann who was sort of holding him? He was holding Newt, wasn’t he? When he went to get Stacker…did he shout ‘ _I order you not to die_ ’ before running off? Then Stacker was there, demanding all the new information free floating through his overloaded brain. His entire cerebral cortex felt like it had been unhooked from his brain stem and was drifting away.

Stacker asked for answers, and Newt dredged up what he could from the wreckage. Then Stacker told him he would have to drift again. He would have to find a fresh brain.

Stacker had gripped Newt’s arm and marched him past Hermann, who gave the man a tight lipped salute and radiated fury as they passed.

After they exited the lab, Stacker told him ‘ _Just a quick run to the medical bay. I don’t need you collapsing out there because we got stupid.’_ Suddenly, they were in medical, and wow, he hated the scanners that took forever. Stacker did too.

He did a lot of talking and demanded that Newt be ready to go in an hour. He didn't mention the possibility of Newt being unfit for it.

There were two professionals assessing him. One was a female middle eastern lab tech with black hair wrapped in a grey hijab. The other was a male doctor who was…he doesn't remember him very well. He was tall.

The doctor examined him while the tech did…yeah, he doesn’t remember that either. He remembers the tech deleting or shredding some scans. She was talking very fast and her words had only the faintest lilt of her homeland. What was she saying?

“If at all possible, _do not drift with the kaiju again._ If that’s not possible, then do not come here for treatment. Some of this is already on record and I can’t fix that, but if you come here again there is going to be some bureaucratic oversight bullshit…” She kept talking, and at some point, Newt might have mumbled something about his deep approval of the seriously anarchist leanings this chick had. She might have glared at him.

Her name was Dr. Siddiq…right…Gia Siddiq…had she given him a card or something? He should track that down.

“If they find out you drifted with a kaiju, and if it happens again, just…if you come here I am about 89.7 percent positive this will end with your brain being dissected in a government lab.” She had serious eyes and a hard mouth.

“But, the whole world saving thing?” he asked. After he said it he realized it sounded really pretentious. She grimaced and sighed.

“Go help save the world, Dr. Geiszler. If we all survive, please be aware of your options. I happen to be a fan of continuing life, but others are much more interested in research then life.” Said Dr. Siddiq

“But…I’m interested in research.” He replied.

“I know,” she told him…

Around that exchange was probably the bit with the card. Gia said something to that doctor about their hour being up before the machine could finish the scan. Scans would have to wait. Next thing he knew he was out on the streets of Hong Kong searching for Hannibal Chau.

And yeah…right… _shit_

So that was the thing about medical…he had always been suspicious of doctors, but he hadn’t had to deal with them much? He would completely understand a scientist wanting to dissect his brain…he kind of wants to know what the inside of his brain looked like right now.

But he is using his brain right now, thank you very much, imaginary doctors…you can’t have it right now.

Should he tell Hermann this? Hermann has been so rage-y that Newt is inclined to let it rest. Hermann won’t do anything too stupid today…he’s a pretty smart dude. The situation is basically fine and under control.

He also doesn’t feel like moving.

The clock on Hermann’s desk tells him it is 2 in the afternoon. He just wants to go to sleep.

  _U_ _gh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok wooooo *pops open imaginary champaigne bottle*  
> First OC of this fic woooo. I played the game of 'what nationality ISNT in Pacific Rim' and I like her a lot. She may come back if there is room for it.
> 
> 10 points to gryffindor if you can find my shitty pun thats so random.
> 
> As always comments are appreciated and Shiloh you are a darling forever. I'm just going to keep stating it for a bit I think. If I ever don't say it you should infer it :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has now been beta'd by my lovely sister Thepsychoticchef on Tumblr :)

After breakfast, Hermann politely excused himself from Hansen’s company. He laughed at Hermann’s formality, saying there was no need for it and that he had some things to take care of, “so no worries, mate”.

Hermann left the mess hall and wandered the halls of the PPDC. It was around two in the afternoon and he still felt vaguely ill; his brain was throbbing and his stomach was still churning

He refused to acknowledge it.

Newton was most likely still in the lab and Hermann refused to be in the same room with him at present. The man did not seem to want or care for his help.

Well that was just fine, he had done his part to stop Newton’s self destruction. For all the good it had done him.

Whatever the case may be, Hermann didn’t think he could bear Newton’s presence, so he chose to wander aimlessly around the Shatterdome, and eventually found himself on the balcony overlooking Jaeger Bay. He used to come here and enjoy being at eye level with the machines.

Now it was empty; a strange sight indeed. He hasn’t seen the room so bare since their initial transfer to Hong Kong, back when the funding was cut and they were scrabbling to get any semblance of a force together.

He stares at the walls and they stare back. What do the walls remind him of? The destructive force he had helped build? He feels strangely divisive about the Jaeger. Part of him feels such a deep bitterness that he had never gotten the chance to pilot one. He still feels that in his bones.

And yet some new part of him hates the Jaegers. They may have saved the earth but they caused so much destruction. They killed as much as they cured the problem. Who feels that way? Was it him? Was it Newton? Was it the Kaiju?

How long has he been standing there leaning on his cane before a noise startles him from his thoughts? A small sigh makes him turn. Apparently he is not alone.

Mako is sitting on the floor with her knees folded to her chest; her arms wrapped loosely around them. She looks up at him with an odd expression.

“I just wanted to…” Hermann faces her as his uncomfortable explanation aborts itself. Mako simply nods and looked back at the empty room. She seems pensive.

Was she remembering Marshall Pentacost marching around this room shouting orders in that booming voice of his? Was she remembering the Wei Triplets or the Kaidonovskys? Or Chuck Hansen?

He too turns and stares at the walls that glare without the Jaegers to hide behind. At the bottom floor a few people are milling around, but they lack purpose.

“It won’t be empty forever, Dr. Gottlieb,” she speaks softly and he turns to her looking a little bewildered. She simply continues,

 “As I understand it, calls are being made to have any remaining Jaegers brought here for upkeep and repair,” her voice remains neutral, but Hermann can see her eyes glinting in the dim.

“Surely the program is being scrapped now?” he asks. She gives him an odd look.

“I think it would be safe to say that the PPDC would like to be prepared.”

He meets her gaze uncertainly, his stomach dropping in slow increments.

“Being prepared is certainly a wise decision.” He responds.

 _‘Oooh…cagey’_ says a voice in his head, sounding utterly American. He resists the urge to shake his head as if to silence the voice. He finds that if he focuses too hard on the blue of Ms. Mori’s hair, his thoughts might be pulled somewhere he does not want. She stands up from her place on the floor and steps towards him. She is still eyeing him…assessing him.

 “I think…you might want to be careful, Dr. Gottlieb; you and Dr. Geiszler.”  

“Would it be possible for you to tell me what has you so concerned?” Hermann asks. She looks at him and bites her lip.

“I think you should talk to Marshall Hansen.”

“I spoke to him just this morning,” Hermann’s voice wants to rise in annoyance, but he manages to maintain a reasonable volume.

“Speak to him again, Hermann…It’s too soon to tell, but…” She stares out at the empty bay. For a moment, it is as though she was seeing something he can't. It forcibly reminds him of the late Marshall. It also reminds him of the sober little girl who had once sat in his lab, staring fixedly at his chalkboard for 30 minutes while waiting for Pentacost to come back from whatever errand he had been running.

Finally, she meets his gaze again looking far too young and so very old. He nods and turns, heading for the door, feeling a deep paralyzing dread. He glances back to see her staring out again. A lone figure in a vast empty space.

“Do you wish to avoid your drift partner Ms. Mori?” he asks her. Now it was her turn to look surprised and his lip quirks.

“I understand the sentiment…” he trails off not knowing what else to say and wanting to run to find the soon-to-be Marshall Hansen. But this room is so quiet and dark the idea of hiding here for the foreseeable future is a tempting notion. Even with the staring walls and the air tinged with nostalgia.

Mako nods.

“Talk to the Marshall, Dr. Gottlieb…” she too looks like there was more she wishes to say but she turns away instead.

He takes her meaning and makes his way out as quickly as he can. His leg aches and there are still foreign thoughts drifting through his skull, but that would have to be set aside for now.

 He has to have a talk with the new Marshall, and he is dreading it with every fiber of being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as always comments are super appreciated.  
> Also this is an odd chapter...it's sort of a placeholder and I don't fully know what it is Herc has to tell Hermann...I have an idea though.  
> And I got really weird and abstract with the walls...walls have personality in my fics ok? just...yeah shut up batya


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has now been beta'd by my lovely sister. Thepsychoticchef on Tumblr

He feels the separation of his consciousness. He feels the fault lines where his mind splits in triplicate, like a cell after mitosis. He feels his head resting against his hands.

He is coming back to himself in increments.

By degrees.

The fog is not clearing so much as it is moving to the corners. It sits in a thin haze over all his thoughts and at the corners of his vision.

He wonders about the new thoughts in his brain and wonders which belong to him.

There’s the need to kill; a violent, cutting need that he is pretty sure is kaiju. It feels alien in his mind.

But then there’s the math, and the science, and he wonders which one of them needs the cane and which one has a secret love of Lilo & Stitch? Which of them was bullied as a child and which had the parents that didn’t know how to handle a kid that smart? Which one of them got lost in numbers, because even the irrational numbers made sense when the world was being reduced to rubble around them? Which one of them liked to take things apart and see what made them work?

Which one of them was too scared to feel and which one felt too much?

Which one of them blamed a suicidal scientific experiment on the others stubborn correctness?

Which one of them found the other in a heap on the floor, and was so overwhelmed by panic, that they could only hold onto the other and pray they would come back from this?

His hands are not doing anything for the pain in his head or the sticky feeling in his stomach.

He had drifted with a Kaiju, and the words of Dr. Siddiq painted a clear picture of what would happen if he went to the PPDC for medical help. He would be in pieces, like the kaiju he had been dissecting for years.

But he never did manage to communicate this to Hermann, and the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that the I dotting, T crossing bastard, would probably go and openly tell the doctors everything and request all sorts of tests and they would know.

They would know about Hermann drifting with him and a dying kaiju.

Maybe they know already? But do they actually know?

Things were pretty hectic at the end, and he seriously doubted that any officials were really closely monitoring anything other than their imminent demise via kaiju

But, Hermann might tell them all sorts of stuff, and well…Newt hasn't really recovered his entire mental faculties yet, but he does remember that the guy probably saved his life twice over the course of two days. Maybe three times if he counted that…whatever that fit was…Hermann did something while Newt had lost track of reality, and existence, and breathing. Yeah, he probably did something helpful and sensible.

And now that Newt is really thinking about Hermann, it occurs to him that he probably hasn't said anything resembling a 'thank you'. That hits him kinda hard, because…fuck…the dude risked frying his brain to keep Newt’s intact, and Newt now has a pretty clear understanding of how much Hermann values his own mind.

It’s the only thing he particularly likes about himself, and even that isn't quite true, but still..

He should have said some of that shit that normal people say. Like, ‘thanks for saving my brain dude’, or ‘sorry I mentally contaminated your psyche’, or something like that… It’s just really hard because he feels pretty torn between wanting to give the guy a hug, or punch him in the face.

Is Newton the one that speaks German with a British accent?

He stands up because that seems like the thing to do, although his body objects to this loudly and with some interesting biological responses.

Like extreme dizziness as his blood decides where to pool. He leans against his desk until his vision clears. When it does, he sniffs and shakes his head a little.

_Awesome, Geiszler…you got this._

This is what he tells himself as he tries to recall which of them was so into boundaries and privacy, and which of them liked to tear apart buildings.

He steps outside the lab, trying to remember if he is the one who walks with large heavy feet that make the ground shake, or if he walks stiffly with a bad knee.

But it’s cool, it’s all good.

It’s fine.

He is going to talk to Hermann and hopefully he won’t shout at him this time, even though the man was asking for it. Even though he wasn’t.

But focus on the walking right now, because Newt’s legs are kind of trying to limp, stomp, and function all at once, and this has to go on some serious lockdown before other people notice. He is supposed to be acting normal, not arousing suspicions. The PPDC is a government run organization, and if they so much as sniff something amiss, they can just sort of grab people off the streets…ah man, he should have listened closer to Dr. Siddiq."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I would really love to hear your thoughts dear readers if you have any. In an aside about me I was laid off this week so I am pretty depressed but I also have more time to write. Updates may be more frequent.
> 
> Also I GOT NEWT OUT OF THAT LAB FINALLY...YAY NEWT IS NOW MOBILE


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter was beta'd by Thepsychoticchef, my lovely sister :)

Hermann tries to just walk. Tries not to get frustrated by his own lack of speed. Tries not to hit anything or anybody with his cane.

Because that would be unseemly.

And unnecessary.

And definitely something Newton would do if he had a cane.

God, Newton…He may have been a large part of the reason they saved the planet, but his methods were...and are…at best, distinctly quixotic. His entire make up seems to be an innumerable amount of large and conflicting ideas being pushed together. It’s brilliant, it’s irritating, it might be endearing, but mostly it tempts Hermann more towards violence. Especially when he thinks about what Newton has done to himself and to him.

It was in service to a vital cause of course. Hermann would make the same choice again in a heartbeat if it came down to it. If he hadn’t, then there is an increased likelihood that mankind would have been flayed alive while those who could, would run screaming.

But there was also the possibility…the possibility he could not accept and refused to imagine…the possibility that they would have survived while Newton was crushed by the weight of his own misguided genius. The image of Newton bleeding on the floor is not one that he could ever erase, and now he has it in two iterations.

So maybe he had more than one motive for joining that second drift.

He really should focus on walking. He still feels absolutely appalling like a tiny version of Newton is suggesting things in his ear while a host of kaiju hiss in the other. It is disconcerting at best and very distracting.

 _‘Yeah, that blows’_ Newton informs him

The kaiju hiss, whether it is in agreement or simply a general rage he cannot say.

He sympathizes with the anger though.

He really does.

He does not want to even look at his drift partner again after their last conversation. He doesn’t want to see him at all.

He can live with knowing everything about Newton…honestly nothing he has learned so far surprises him. Except the family, but he tries not to think too hard about them lest he pull up more memories that don’t belong to him.

He has many things he would never have wanted Newton to see or know…and god knows what the man has gleaned so far. It’s not embarrassing; it’s shameful. His secrets are no longer his own. Newton does not need to know about his pathetic childhood or how he ended up walking with a cane. He didn’t _want_ Newton to know anything of that.

When people know they treat him differently. They look at him with sorry eyes and treat him like he is made of glass.

Newton is irritating, and so grating, but he is never gentle in his treatment of Hermann. He never looks at Hermann with pity. He never holds back.

Hermann has finally arrived at Marshall Hansen’s office. Now he will find out whatever it is that Mako wouldn’t tell him and he is almost too scared to know.

In another Newton-esque moment he doesn’t even bother to knock. He simply opens the door and barges in.

Marshall Hansen is seated on one side of the desk looking utterly exhausted.

On the other side of the desk...

Is Newton.

His eyes slowly slide over to meet Hermann’s gaze. He doesn’t seem surprised as much as frustrated. The red ring around his right eye is still stark and disturbing. Hermann hasn’t had much time to look in the mirror but he knows his left eye is a disturbing twin to it.

A physical mark of the drift if anybody is looking for it.

The Marshall is now looking between them uncertainly. He doesn’t seem irritated by Hermann’s interruption. His expression is more difficult to parse. It seems as though, in the few hours since Hermann saw him, he has aged still further.

“Ok.” Newton says. An abrupt non-sequiter. But he is looking at the Marshall as he says it.

“Ok. Now I’m going.”

The Marshall seems inclined to say more, but instead, he simply nods.

Newton stands, twitchy and unbalanced, and walks right past Hermann without a word. Hermann stares at the man’s back as he heads down the hallway, then back at the Marshall.

“Would you care to tell me what that was about?” He phrases it as a question rather than a demand. Out of respect.

Marshall Hansen looks almost ashamed as he says

“I’m really sorry, Dr. Gottlieb, but I have to make some calls right now. I suggest you talk to Dr. Geiszler.”

Hermann gapes at him. He sees something like desperation and wonders what on Earth could be so bad? He has ideas, many of them. But he refuses to entertain them, because that would be absurd.

He glares at the wall rather than the Marshall and then turns to follow Newton to wherever he is leading them next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah as always I would really appreciate any comments or feedback.
> 
> And the thing about Hermann's leg. I may or may not explain that eventually I'm not sure. It's not like a super secret thing I just don't know if I am going to write about it but I have a story for the leg
> 
> Also I know I am a giant tease and I just keep doing chapter after chapter of people thinking about stuff. I know...I'm sorry the next chapter has an actual conversation in it


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the forever corrector of Newt vs. Newton, Thepsychoticchef on Tumblr

Newt was trying really hard to walk normally, because he probably looked like he had some sort of disorder at the moment.

He probably did have a disorder.

In his intense concentration he nearly walked right into Herc Hansen.

“Oh, hey…uh sorry, dude,” Newt mumbled, fully intending to keep walking to wherever he was going.

“Oh good, Dr. Geiszler, I was hoping to speak with you"

“Oh, uh…were you? Ok, cool.” Newt was definitely coming off completely chill. Not like some sort of strange individual who crawled out of some Mary Shelley novel.

Herc simply nodded his head and started walking with the clear assumption Newt would follow.

And it was tempting…. _so tempting_. To just _not follow_.If asked about it, Newt could easily say he misunderstood. Easy enough…but…in the long term this would probably solve none of Newts problems.

He should probably just follow and get this over with.

They arrive at Herc's office sooner than Newt expected, and the guy is being pretty polite for somebody who is basically the new marshal of the PPDC. He opens the door for Newt and gestures for him to have a seat.

That is probably what sets Newt on edge.

While he may have never had Gia’s intense level of conspiracy theories, he has never exactly trusted the powers that be. Except Pentacost. He’s awesome…was awesome. Pentacost is past tense now and the thought makes him suddenly want to hunch over and cry over the things that changed too fast for him to keep up.

God no wonder Mako looked like such a mess. That was basically her dad.

And Chuck…Herc _was_ his dad. It’s been a day and now he’s expected to just soldier on?

And who is mourning the Kaidonovsky’s and their intense love for vodka that he respected? Or the Wei triplets whom he never knew well enough because he had no time.

Because there was never enough time.

He is fumbling his way towards the chair and Herc is quietly sitting on the other side of the very official mahogany desk. This was Pentacost’s desk. That must be weird sitting at your dead friend’s desk and taking over his job.

Now they are both sitting and Newt needs to not focus on the dead right now because he drifted with the kaiju and there might be some fallout. Like right now.

“Unfortunately, Dr. Geiszler, your first drift is officially on record, so there is no denying what happened.”

 _That’s a weird way to start a conversation,_ Newt thinks.

 _‘Absolutely bizarre’_ Hermann agrees…not actual Hermann. His own internal British barometer that he now has thanks to the drift.

And Herc’s still talking. He should listen,

“-Pentacost was not exactly keeping records of all the events of the last day or so. The only evidence of the second drift is that you and Hermann ran into the control room saying you had intel on the kaiju and matching…” he points to his eye and makes a face, and Newt feels compelled to make one back.

Hey, he never said he was mature. Herc ignores this and continues,

“The PPDC is not ruling out the possibility of a second breach, and I'm doing my best to deal with the situation a hand, but...” He trails off to scrub his face with a hand.

“We still don’t fully know what happened yesterday. File reports, by the way,” he vaguely points at Newt with an attempt at severity and then sighs. Newt is waiting for him to say whatever it is he is dancing around. He is dreading and anticipating it in equal measure.

“You, and possibly Dr. Gottlieb, are the only ones with firsthand knowledge of the kaiju and how they work. I believe you were the one who said they were a hivemind?” He pauses now to stare at Newt, as if waiting for some sort of affirmation. Newt doesn't respond. He knows where this is going. Feels it in his fucking soul, because he knows what Herc is about to ask, and he is pretty sure of his answer which scares him even more.

“The PPDC…we…want to gather intel on the kaiju in anticipation of any future breach activity,”

“You want me to drift again.” Newt finally says. Herc looks at him, his mouth a thin unhappy line.

“But…” his brain hunts for something logical to say. Because he has no words to explain the fact that he feels like he’s been half lobotomized and he feels like he might say yes, and he shouldn't say yes. . He should say yes.

“With Mutavore again? What else could I learn? Mutavore’s been outside the anteverse for awhile now…”

“They recovered large portions of Raiju, which have been preserved, and are being shipped here as we speak.”

Newt’s words die in his throat. A new kaiju specimen. It peaks his curiosity even as the idea of diving back into that mental mess horrifies him. And seduces him. The little kaiju voice in his head hisses in hypnotic suggestion.

He tries again. He tries to say something real and honest about why this would be a bad idea. A bad idea he _really_ wants to try with only a vague sense of his own limitation is stopping him.

“Herc…look I…I haven’t even fully leveled out from the last two drifts…and…” He is struggling to find the words. Herc watches him with an even gaze.

“I’m pretty sure it would be…a bad idea to drift again.” And that’s the best he can do? Apparently.

Herc’s mouth twists.

"Well, the PPDC will not force you into any life threatening situations, but Dr. Gottlieb’s predictions always suggested more than one rift, and people want answers. We would give you 48 hours to prepare of course and…” Now Herc trails off, as if the words he needs to say are unpleasant in his mouth.

“If you are unwilling to drift, the PPDC will see if Dr. Gottlieb is willing to participate.” And maybe that’s what grabs his attention. He stares with fixed stillness at Hercules Hansen in a cold calculate moment. Neither of them want to be in this room having this talk, but 'The Powers that Be' put them here and pretended they had better options.

Hermann, the man who had shouted at him for the last ten years. The man who had bought him a kaiju action figure with no explanation on the day his uncle died. The man who brought him coffee on all those long, endless, days in the lab, when Newt refused to sleep, refused to stop, because the science was there waiting for him. The man who seemed perpetually enraged by the universe, because the universe was fucked and only the numbers made sense. The man who did not seem to care what anybody thought of him, because there were problems to be solved and a world that needed to be saved, and if Hermann could just multiply and divide his way to the answer, it would all work out.  
  
The man who seemed to always know the right time for an argument, and the time to quietly work until the work was done. The man who worked harder than anybody Newt had ever met, and was probably the smartest person he had ever met. The man who had saved Newt from his own stupid hubris. Twice. The man who Newt allowed into his mind, because they've known each other for so long that Newt was sure there would be nothing else to know.

Newt’s mouth sets.

Then the door bursts open and Hermann barges into the room, looking breathless and upset. Their eyes meet. Twin red sclera’s lock and Newt can’t really think, and he can’t plan, but fuck it.

“Ok,” he says to Herc, and watches him inhale a half silent gasp. He looks relieved, and maybe sad, and maybe loads of other stuff that Newt is too exhausted to figure out.

“Ok, now I’m going.”  And with that he stands and bypasses Hermann, because he can’t really think about Hermann right now. He might have just agreed to suicide by science.

To be fair, if he had to go by choice…science is always the best way to go, but he hadn't necessarily wanted to be mentally torn to pieces by the monsters he'd cut in pieces before the dying occurred.

That is what he just agreed to. Probably.

He still can’t remember the drift. Not really.

He has gathered a few vague impressions. Memories of Hermann and the hivemind. A sensation of the other that wished him dead down to the molecular level. Claws that dug into him and didn’t let go until the drift was done.

So that’s what he just agreed to.

So the PPDC is pretty sure he drifted a second time. They aren’t sure about Hermann…just him. Of course, if he had said no, they would have been happy to grab somebody else. Or maybe they would have just forced him. Despite whatever Herc says, governments get freaky when people get scared.

And, well…even with all of that, there was something in him that wants to go back to that. To dive into that ocean and be consumed. Even though he knows how much he should not want it, he wants it. He wants it so bad. Even from here he can feel the tides pulling at him. Inviting him.

He is barely paying attention to where he is walking.

Also Hermann…there is Hermann…

The problem with Hermann…if it can be considered a problem…Is that the man has integrity. Maybe too much for a government run organization. The man _believes_ in things and will act on those beliefs, and he will not fucking lie. It’s exasperating, and exhausting, and inspiring, and infuriating

Hermann does not doubt the higher powers. He trusts them and acts in service of them, because he perceives their goals as right even as they take, and take, and take.

Hermann is probably the one who is going to survive this. Of the pair of them, he is the one with mettle to make it through this mess. Because he has already survived so much.

His leg stopped working and he kept going. His father stopped caring and he kept going. They told him he couldn’t pilot and he kept going. He worked with _Newt_ calling him a moron every second of every day, and he _still kept going_.

They took his dreams, they took his staff and his funding, they took his _math_ , and they are still taking it because Hermann is still giving. Because he thinks it is right even when he thinks it’s wrong, and he is just going to keep believing and letting them bleed him dry and

And no

This is where Newt comes into the equation. A random factor not previously considered by any party, and thank god he at least has the element of surprise, because the fact is Newt’s already compromised. His mind is probably already half ruined by two bad drifts. Hermann might have gotten a little weirder, but he is still surviving. Still functioning. _Still thinking_. If they asked Hermann, he would say yes, and let them take that monument to mathematics and rationalism and let them flush it all away.

He does not hear the distant tapping of a cane somewhere behind him.

And, ok, it’s not all selfless. Newt admits that.

He imagines connecting again. Connecting with them. He feels the pull of the tides that are begging him to drift out into that ocean. It _wants_ him. Or maybe he wants it? Who can tell if he is even perceiving real emotions or simply echoes of the collective tidal voices in his head.

He wants back in. He doesn’t want Hermann back in there. So really there is no reason for him not to do this. It’s a win win.

Except for the part where he is probably going to die.

His stomach turns somersaults. Yeah, he probably won’t make it out alive…or at least not fully functioning. Best case scenario is catatonia or coma

…Oh well, that’s fine… _c’est la_ vie,right?

Right? He turns the corner and he’s back at the lab.

“Newton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are really appreciated :D
> 
> So a major note on upcoming chapters. I am going to be ditching the strict Newt than Herm POV switches as needed. The next couple chapters will probably be from Newtons POV followed by several Hermann POV chapters. Just an FYI for those who wonder at the change in format.
> 
> This chapter also has another Designations reference because sorry I love it. Hermann being a pillar of rationalism...yup I won't touch Descartes because that is all CWR's but I couldn't resist a little allusion to it.
> 
> And as an aside there may be some small inconsistencies for the sake of story like ok TECHNICALLY nobody knows the precise details of Newt and Herms second drift but sharing the neural load seems to be a widely accepted thing. So like my only logic for the insistence on drifting alone with the kaiju is that the muckity mucks dont want to ruin both geniuses they have at their disposal. I'm going to ask you to roll with that and a few other things that are done for the sake of DRAMA because I love drama.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> corrected by the withholder of truths Thepsychoticchef, sister and editor extraordinaire

“Newton.”

He turns around and sees Hermann is behind him. The man looks about as shitty as he feels. The eye thing is not going to get less weird anytime soon. He is a little sweaty and leaning hard on his cane.

Newt looks at him briefly and with many conflicting thoughts.

He turns and walks into the lab. It’s not really meant as an invitation, but Hermann follows him in regardless.

The limping looks bad right now. Watching is kind of making Newt wish Hermann would just sit down, but instead, he is standing in front of him.

“What was the conversation you just had with Marshal Hansen about?” He phrases it like a question but it isn't. His hand grips the cane so hard Newt half expects the knuckle bones to break skin.

“It wasn’t a big deal, dude. And you could have asked Hansen…” he trails off under the intensity of Hermann’s glare.

“Ms. Mori seemed to think it would be very important, and the Marshal insisted I ask you.”

Typical. What a coward. Although it might have been an attempt at sensitivity, allowing Newt to control the spread of this information.

“Look, it’s nothing, ok?” Newt says stalling for time, but Hermann looks like he might hit Newt with his cane if he sidesteps the issue.

Problem is, Newt can’t say it. He can’t say it out loud. Not to Hermann.

But he does.

Sort of.

“The PPDC wants me to drift with another kaiju remnant to gather intel,” he says it casually, despite how saying the words 'drift' and 'kaiju' make his throat close.

Hermann stares at him and blinks. And then stares some more. It is probable that this apparent calm is a signal that Hermann is about to have an utter meltdown. Or he is already having one internally. A calm Hermann is rarely a good thing.

“I told them no, so…like I said…no worries.”

The sentence seems to unlock something in the other man. His shoulders sag a fractional amount. The grip on his cane loosens, knuckles return to standard skin tones.

“And that’s it? They were satisfied with that?” he asks and Newt finds his tone interesting. It sounds a lot like concern. And yeah, Newt’s going to keep lying through his teeth because he does _not_ want Hermann involved. Not in this shit storm. 

“Yeah, I mean…they want me to keep studying kaiju and I offered to help them study alternative methods of gathering more information about the kaiju and stuff.”

Who knew he was such a good liar? It rolls right off his tongue and Hermann isn’t questioning it. He is nodding and even offers Newton a razor thin smile…or something like that.

“That is fortunate. I imagine Ms. Mori did not know your answer when I spoke to her…” he trails off. Possibly because he doesn't have a good enough reason for Herc pawning off this conversation on Newt, but it looks like he isn't over thinking it. That’s good. And now Newt really wants to change the subject.

“Herc wants us to write up reports and all that.” Newt says like an aside, but isn’t.

“Naturally,” Hermann replies, so fucking primly it almost makes Newt laugh.

“Well, I think it’s probably best if you maybe leave out the finer details of that second drift, ok?” his voice squeaks like rusty hinges, and Hermann is looking at him in a way that Newt wants to stop. Immediately.

“I’m just saying, the less the higher ups know the better. I was going to say that I just remembered more stuff from the first drift, ok?” Hermann is still staring.

“Surely people noticed when you brought your pons equipment to the middle of Hong Kong.” He says and Newt inhales slowly. Why does Hermann have to be so smart?

“Yeah, but nobody knows if I actually used it. You’re the only guy who was _there_.” He tries not to sound desperate, tries not to sound like he is scrabbling for reasonable answers. It comes as a relief when Hermann scoffs.

“Those insufferable morons. Don’t they know it takes two to drift? The neural load is too much to handle alone.” And Newt laughs. It escapes him loudly and somewhat manaically. He sounds a little unhinged. Hermann is staring again and he is trying to think of something to say, but instead he just stares at Hermann’s leg as his brain goes blank.

This causes Hermann to scowl at him and mutter some like, “Insufferable,” through clenched teeth and before returning to his own desk.  

Newt stares at the man’s back as he retreats to his side of the lab. He considers those tense shoulderblades poking against that ridiculous suit jacket. The man is so absurd sometimes that Newt wonders if he is even real.

In other news, Newt is going to have a talk with Herc and whoever is running this operation, because he has some boundaries that he needs set now.

_Like right now._

He has 48 hours to figure out what needs to happen.

_Shit._

He feels a bit like throwing up and falling asleep. He feels like his nose is bleeding. He feels Hermann looking at him from the other side of the lab. He feels the colossal drive that wants to go diving down into the azure depths of what he won’t do, and cannot do, and what he is going to do. He wants to drift with an ocean.

He feels what he does not know, and what he will soon know, too well. He is sitting at the edge of an endless chasm that he helped make because it was his stupid ideas that put him here.

So this is what real fear feels like.

Alone, but not, in a lab surrounded by chalk figures and pieces of what used to walk the earth.

Newt is very

very

afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always love the comments guys. You all are lovely :)  
> Ok so this as I mentioned is breaking my strict Herm than Newt POV switches. It's going to be irregular now and with less of a clear pattern based on whose POV is going to best tell the story.
> 
> Also in the realm of things I am asking you to buy for the sake of DRAMA, a big one is that Hermann buys this load of crap. I would like to consider it largely coming from a place of denial that he does not want the thing to happen so he is very ready to believe it isnt happening. Honestly Hermann's waaay too smart to buy this and I will do my best to justify it but yeah. This is the big thing I am going to ask you to suspend your disbelief for. It might even be OOC which like...yeah...
> 
> Also I have now caught up to myself. I wrote several chapters ahead to get all of this to work coherently but now I'm caught up so the next update might not be so quick.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter beta'd by thepsychoticchef :)

"Ok so we need to set some ground rules,” Newt said leaning forward in his chair on the other side of Herc’s desk. It was day 1 of 2 before the drift and he had come to some conclusions.

"Alright, Dr. Geiszler, what ground rules?” Herc asked calmly. Newt held up one finger, “Dr. Gottlieb doesn’t know about this and he won’t find out about it. No matter what, no one is allow to tell him what is going on.” Newt held up a second finger,

“Whatever tests are being done, I need to be out of medical by noon. Every day I need to be able to walk out of there. I will go to the lab and go about my day and not be bothered by you, or any medical personnel unless I call for them. I want to be out of there by 1 o’clock at the latest. I don't care how you have to spread this out, but that is going to happen.” He puts his hands behind his head and leans back in his chair, raising his chin a little as he does so. He is confident they will listen, because hey, he just agreed to let them ruin him and that is going to give him some play in this.

“You know the possibility exists that, at some point, you won’t be able to walk out?” Herc asks him in a tone that is almost gentle, and Newt smiles with lips pulling back from teeth in predatory rage.

“Ok first off don’t bother being all nice to me right now ok? I agreed to this and it’s shitty and you know it. Let’s skip the part where we act like friends.”

Woah, who filled his mouth with acid this morning? Hyperbolic acid of course, the literal acid might come later. He’s been having trouble eating.

“Second, I know and I don’t care; this is what I want.”

He thought over his alternatives and frankly he is too selfish to take them. He could tell Hermann he was being called away for something…a conference perhaps. Staying in the medical bay the whole time being monitored sounded smarter, and more likely to not arouse Hermann’s suspicion, but… Stuck in that cold empty room. Being prodded and poked all day long by people he did not like. The extremely likely possibility that he would enter that room and never leave it again. Never see people again. Never see Hermann again.

The man is more familiar to him than the sky; than oxygen. More a part of him than his own blood and bones. The man’s presence is steadier than his own heartbeat. No, he could not resign himself to being locked away from everything and everyone. Away from him, until… No, he is too selfish for that.

He briefly wonders what would happen if he ran. Just grabbed his things and bolted. He would have to take Hermann, otherwise the higher ups would simply sink their claws into him

And that’s where the dream sputters and dies. He can picture the conversation with pinpoint accuracy.‘Hermann, we need to run away.’ ‘why?’ ‘……because San Francisco is really sunny this time of year.’ It’s a shame Hermann's smart enough to ask questions…not really…but kind of.

“Dr. Geiszler?” Herc regains his attention, and now it’s Newt’s turn to sigh as his skull throbs dully and his hands shake

“Just do what I asked and I’ll go along with everything else.” With that, he stands up and walks towards the door. He still feels like walking is hard, but it feels like that has more to do with his muscle and bone being replaced with glue while he slept.

“Who is going to be running this…study?” he asks the door instead of Herc, because he wants to know whose face he is going to be seeing before his entire self collapses into nothing

“Caitlin Lightcap,” Herc says. Newt nods to the door before he opens it and shuts it behind him.

Of course it would be Lightcap. Fucking Lightcap.

Hermann would be thrilled. Newt is feeling mostly mixed and trying to remember that panel they met at...was it four years ago? Hermann had barely been able to speak as he shook her hand, and then somehow Newt and Caitlin had started talking about drift compatibility and…he had been pretty drunk at the time, but the argument had gotten pretty heated

So yeaaaah… it could be worse, he supposed. She is the expert in drift technology, and he is the expert in kaiju. On paper this must look like a great plan.

Great plan.

He is a little excited in the sense that he's incredibly curious, and that saying about curiosity and the cat may be more than hyperbole at this point.

Stupid fucking cat.

Stupid fucking Newton Geiszler.

He wondered if his senses would leave him in ordered rank and file? Marching one by one into an abyss of technology and biology.

Would he feel it?

His brain compensated for the last drift by filing it away under lock and key. When he slept last night he dreamed about the drift. But if the brain could compensate for that…adapt in some way…what would he feel?

Would he know the moment that would be his last?

Because brain dead is as good as dead, even if the heart is still beating

He heads back to the lab and arrives there soon enough. Hermann is sitting at his computer and typing today. Probably filling out the report. Well, he should probably do that too

He sits at his computer and opens a blank document. He brings his hands to the keyboard and begins to write. 

He does not include the fact that Hermann drifted with him. He says he did it alone. He tries to give the rest reasonable detail, but he just keeps wondering if, at some point later on, Hermann might read this report. He does not like that thought.

He types up everything he can think of, and after an hour or so, he saves it and shuts it down. He slept in today. That was on purpose since he is going to start coming in to the lab late for the foreseeable future. It’s already 5 now and his stomach tells him he should eat. He keeps trying to eat and it’s not working. He can’t seem to keep food down, and it probably isn’t even a physical symptom as much as a sign of anxiety at this point.

Ok, technically it might have something to do with how dizzy he feels almost constantly.

He is going to the mess hall anyway. Hermann has been pretty quiet all day, but as Newt leaves he asks, “Where are you going?”

“To eat dinner…” And then his traitorous mouth betrays him “Want to come?”

Hermann looks at him in some small surprise. “Yes, alright.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are deeply pleasing to me y'all
> 
> Also heyooo I'm bringing in Caitlin Lightcap. I will do my best to bring a unique spin to her since lordy knows she has been done quite a bit in fandom. I have some ideas. Also GIA MY FAV OC IS COMING BACK I AM EXCITED. If you follow me on Tumblr you know this already but yeah. Gia is rad.
> 
> And I referenced DCWT again because I can and it makes me laugh.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrected by thepsychoticchef <3

Newton was strange at dinner…is that even a proper way of indentifying his behavior? The man is a living, breathing oddity. He is chaos theory given human form.

That being said, he barely eats during dinner. He has moments of sudden animation where he chatters endlessly on some bit of minutiae that catches his interest. Subordinate vs. dominant among predatory species, the cellular response to drifting, and what the PPDC plans for the Shatterdomes are in the future, because fixing up a Jaeger only takes one large room, and their science only needs one more room. This kind of ranting goes on and then dies down suddenly as he returns to picking at his food.

When he smiled it was incandescent, but the light seemed to fade quickly and without warning.

Hermann had no idea what was plaguing him or how to ask. He was, personally, not one for talking about his feelings. But Newton seemed inclined to talk up, down, around, and through his issues. He had been doing it for years and only now did it appear that something had finally capped the verbal well.

When Hermann was finished eating, Newton stood jerkily and said he was going to bed early because he was tired. That left Hermann to go back to the lab alone.

Strangely the lab was a sadder place when it lacked the man’s presence, so Hermann went to wander again. Well, if walking with a predetermined destination can still be categorized as wandering.

He walked up to the entrance of the balcony overlooking the Jaeger bay. He found her pressed against the railing looking at something far away.

He stood for a moment, feeling uncertain of what to say. The light dimly rose up from the level below providing bare illumination. It lit up her blue streaks in a way was momentarily blinding.

Nevertheless, he spoke first,

“Good evening, Miss Mori,” she turned to face him with the ghost of a smile. He returned the expression more easily than he would have thought possible before. Maybe that was another bit of Newton detritus that was now littered throughout his personality and decisions.

“Good evening, Dr. Gottlieb,” she said with a small inclination of the head. She turned back to face the balcony and did not tell him to leave. He interpreted that as an invitation and came to stand beside her at the balcony rail.

They stood there in a companionable silence. Down below a few large boxes had come in. It appeared to be the beginning parts of something. Maybe a Jaeger or the tools to help fix one. It was hard to say from this high up.

“I just thought you might like to know, I spoke with Marshall Hansen, and I don’t believe you need to worry about myself or Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann said as politely as he could. Her concern had been touching in its very existence. He felt it should be acknowledged in some way. She turned to him with wide eyes and a smile that was shockingly bright in the dim.

“That is most fortunate, Dr. Gottlieb. I am glad for you both.” He attempted to smile back but her expression flagged and was gone in a moment. She turned to face the railing and the floor below. Hermann followed her lead. They stood in another silence, but it did not feel unwelcome.  
  
“I’m going to be leaving tomorrow for a press tour with Raleigh Beckett,” Mako informed him in a sudden aside that felt like a confession.

“Really?” Hermann asked. He was not very good at conversation.

Ever since the drift Hermann had felt solitude more acutely than ever before. And yet he could not make himself seek out the one person who might truly cure that ache. Instead, he found himself seeking out other people and initiating conversations. It was new territory for him. Whether Ms. Mori was seeking solitude from all the PPDC or just her drift partner was unknown. She seemed amenable to his presence which made him guess it was mostly the latter.

“That must be troubling for you,” he said in an attempt at some sort of sympathy or empathy, he couldn’t quite tell which. She looked over at him and smiled wanly.

“I wanted to fight the kaiju, Dr. Gottlieb, I wanted to bring about their destruction.” Her gaze is intense and she breaks it to stare resolutely at the floor below or something else Hermann cannot see.

“I was always more concerned with the fight. Drifting was a necessary step towards that and so I took it without considering…” she breaks off and roughly swipes at her eye. Hermann rummages in his pockets until he finds a small package of tissues. He hands her the pack and she smiles at him briefly before taking a tissue to wipe her nose.

“Now Raleigh and I are tied together in ways I should have anticipated and I find it difficult to...” she laughs a little, almost embarrassed but not.

“He brings up such strong emotions in me,” she is still staring far away but her lips seem to struggle with the words. A short silence falls but it is a thoughtful one; it is soberly shared between them.

“I understand that sentiment, Ms. Mori. But, unfortunately, what’s done is done, and now we have to live in the consequences of our own making,” he murmured trying not to lean to heavily on his cane. He felt the weight of their words in a way that almost made him want to crumple. It was tempting to simply be crushed under the weight of all of it. Not to try anymore but simply let the worry and the pain sink into him and pull him down.

Now Ms. Mori was looking at him again, very keenly.

“Did you drift with Dr. Geiszler?” she asks. Hermann opens his mouth to answer and then shuts it. He had, in essence, made an agreement with Newton to not discuss their shared drift with the infant of Otachi. And yet he felt a certain trust with Ms. Mori. He wanted to confide in somebody since he could not with his drift partner.

And yet.

Hermann did not give his word lightly. Newton had seemed deeply agitated about this point. He did not wish to…upset Newton further by going against his wish.

He still had not responded to Ms. Mori, but some new light had come into her eyes. A look of comprehension or possibly understanding. She faced forward and spoke to the air,

“Perhaps if you had…” She glanced at him sidelong, “hypothetically, drifted with Dr. Geiszler and the kaiju, the after effects would be complex and confusing.”

Hermann returned to facing forward as well and spoke with a sigh.

“If I had hypothetically drifted with such a confusing man…I would indeed be troubled.” He was choosing his words carefully, but more for the benefit of any other ears that might be in range of their conversation.

“Newton’s behavior has been more erratic than usual and I would find this to be…a matter of concern. Not to mention the utter lack of privacy would be unbearable.”

Mako nodded gravely.

“Some secrets are too painful to be shared,” she said softly.

“Indeed, Ms. Mori…indeed.”

Silence fell once more, but it was slightly lighter. Fractionally so. Troubles had been spoken aloud and freed into the air where they were moderately less of a burden.

“When do you leave for the tour?” Hermann asked.

“5 AM tomorrow,” she responds, flat and resigned. Hermann glances at his watch.

“It is almost 10 PM already, perhaps it would be time for you to attempt some rest?” he asks.

“Tomorrow will be a long day,” she sighs.

“I can walk to your quarters if you would like,” Hermann offers. It felt strange and uncertain and a little outdated, but Hermann was enjoying Ms. Mori's uncomplicated understanding. She smiled at him now, and Hermann imagined she might feel something similar.

Two lonely drifters…what a pair they make.

“Alright, Dr. Gottlieb, but if you are going to walk me home I believe you should start calling me Mako,” she says with a hint of play. He imagines a young Mako sternly acquiescing to the use of her first name with Pentacost and a few other privileged individuals.

“Then I suppose you will be calling me Hermann,” he says with a similar attempt at good spirits. It feels like they need this even if it is forced for the moment.  
  
Mako nods with childish gravitas.

“Naturally,”

It evokes a tugging at the corner of his mouth that does not feel forced. It’s funny how quickly pretending becomes real, even for the adults. Making believe until one believes it. 'fake it till you make it.' A phrase Newton favored.The mind is such a powerful tool that way.

Mako lets him set the pace as they walk and attempt something like small talk to fill the empty air. It feels nice to pretend there is nothing achingly wrong in their lives. They are just two friends taking a walk and having a nice chat. She tells him the various locations her tour will take her and he discusses some papers he has been reading on alternative methods of mapping temporal and spatial distortions.

It’s all quite casual until a voice interrupts them.

“Hey, Mako!” Raleigh is walking towards them from the direction of his and Mako’s neighboring rooms.

She freezes and stares up at the approaching man with wide eyes. She looks not unlike the proverbial deer in headlights, and Hermann can’t help but glare a little at the man for causing such obvious distress. Raleigh comes to stop in front of them with his hands buried deep in his pockets and tense shoulders.

“Hey, Dr. Gottlieb, good to see you.” He says casually. Hermann inclines his head slightly and sneaks another glance at Mako, who has now transferred her gaze to the floor.

“Hello, Raleigh,” she tells the concrete softly and Hermann watches, genuine confusion and concern flit across the man’s features.

“Hey…um…looking forward to seeing you…tomorrow…” He says slowly and more awkwardly than Hermann would have expected. A hand detaches from a pocket to scratch at his hair. He looks sheepish, even bashful, but his emotions are always out on display for everyone to see. Mako only makes a monosyllabic noise that sounded nothing like agreement or disagreement.

“You know, I was just telling Ms. Mako that she ought to get some rest considering the early start you two have tomorrow.” Hermann cut in as politely as possible. Why was he involving himself in this?

“Oh yeah! Of course…I was just going to get some shut eye after I talked to Tendo about something…” he trails off into silence once more and the three of them stand there. Three variations on discomfort and uncertainty.

“Ok well…goodnight…Mako” Raleigh says slowly, he is still staring at her like he might will her to look at him. She glances up briefly and nods to the floor.

“Good night Raleigh.” And then she moves past him, leaving Hermann to nod in a silent farewell to her confused and dejected drift partner before following her down the hall. Once there is some distance between Mako and Raleigh, she slows to down so Hermann can catch up.

They continue towards her room without a word exchanged between them. He can imagine the silence is filled with the words unspoken. Words between Mako and Raleigh. Between Newton and himself. Things that remain unsaid until they are brave enough to say them.

He glances at her as they walk towards her room. Her face is clouded over with a quiet blend of frustration and anxiety; her eyes stare into a memory he cannot see. The pretend happiness is now replaced with weighted silence as they walk. When they reach Mako’s door she turns to face him.

“I appreciate your help, Hermann,” she says without meeting his eyes. Hermann nods, another heavy mix of sympathy and empathy.

“Perhaps…if the tour becomes…overwhelming, you might consider calling me? For the sake of having someone to talk to?” Again, why is he offering so much? When she smiles at him he feels something melt a little.

“I would like that very much, Hermann.”

He pulls a pad of paper from his pocket and scrawls down the random numerals that string together to make up his cell phone number. He hands her the paper and she gives him a crooked grin.

“I believe I just managed to ‘score you digits?’ Or is that not the phrase?” she asks. The laugh that escapes him is short and sharp, but his lips form a real smile.

“I believe that is the phrase…Good luck on your trip, Mako.” He bends in a small respectful bow. Her smile is something softer now, but she bows in return.

“Good luck with Dr. Geiszler.”

After she shuts her door he considers her words. Luck is certainly much of what he will need, and possibly an act of God to prevent Newton from enacting any further stupidity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Hermann you sweet summer child...  
> Also Mako....Mako you are a darling and frankly if I found Raleigh more interesting I would write loads about the pair of you. As it is I feel like there is definitely a story with them. I may write a bit of it separate from this fic farther down the line. (and that bit at the end may or may not have been an excuse to ditch the Ms. Mori thing...Hermann why are you such a stickler?
> 
> Comments are love as always.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you dislike poetry than I'm sorry. Also um...Trigger warning for descriptions of panic attacks? Just in case?
> 
> Beta'd shortly by my lovely sister Thepsychoticchef

Newt sat at his desk in the lab. Day 2 of 2 before the drift.

How did he feel about this? Not awesome…not awesome at all.

Hermann was on his side of the lab recording equations from his boards. It was a method he had begun employing as soon as he ran out of chalkboard space ages ago. Reducing the organic spread of chalk thoughts into neat organizable equations that could be referred back at a later date. He had a notebook, a binder, and some sort of filing system for it all.  
  
This was stuff Newt had picked up from the drift since, apparently, he didn’t used to know that

 So that’s weird. For sure.

He is considering this as he faces his desk and fiddles on his laptop. He doesn’t really have work to do right now since the work is coming later…

At medical. Where he will be hooked up and god knows what else.

He knows he could ask.

He could march into the medical bay right now and demand to know everything that’s going to happen in excruciating detail.  
  
But he wants every last second that he can get away from there. Before time and his own agreements force him to go.

“Dr. Geiszler?” he can feel Hermann turn with him to face the door and the petit figure standing in it.

_Oh fuck._

Her looks more or less match the dreamy eyed scientist he had drunkenly argued with at that conference; her hair had been longer though. Now it’s chopped unevenly and splaying wildly just beneath her chin. The eyes are different too. More alert, more ready.  
  
Glasses are the same at least. Wide with heavy frames.

Hermann sputters from his side of the lab.

“Dr. Lightcap, it’s a pleasure to meet you again!” Hermann is way too excited as he goes for his cane and makes his way over to shake her hand. She takes the hand gingerly, her smile a little sharp.

“I’m here to speak with Dr. Geiszler, we’re going to be collaborating on –“ Newt interrupts her,

“–On alternative methods of gathering intel on the kaiju, I should have mentioned Lightcap. Sorry, dude. I knew you would nerd out,” Hermann goes a little red but doesn’t latch on to any other part of that, which is fortunate."  
  
Besides, the nerding out is not an exaggeration; Hermann practically lit up. He is so eager to talk to this woman, even though Hermann’s favorite part of the Jaeger is the structure (that’s where all his numbers went), Newt knows he has a steady reverence for the Pons equipment that Caitlin had engineered.

Also, at the moment, he is behind Hermann and trying to tell Caitlin to shut up with his eyes. Fortunately, the lady lives up to her PhD’s and doesn’t say anything further. She simply stares bemused and tight lipped.

“Dr. Geiszler, can we speak outside for a moment?” she asks. Newt’s up out of his seat in a flash.

“Yup, be right back Herms, try not to break anything while I’m gone,” he twiddles his fingers in delicate farewell and prays Hermann will be too annoyed to question anything that is going on.

Thank god he knows just how to annoy the man.

Once out of the lab, Newt leads Lightcap a little further from the doorway before sticking out his hand.

"First off is pleasantries I think. So, hi, it’s nice to meet you when I’m not drunk and enraged about stuff,” Her eyebrows shoot sky high but nevertheless she takes his hand and gives it two firm shakes before dropping it like a hot potato. Her palms are dry, the skin red and irritated. Her nails are bitten down to the quick. He sees all of this before she jams her hands back into the pockets of her lab coat.

Because, apparently, Caitlin actually wears a labcoat around the way normal people wear jackets. Under the coat was some button up blouse and jeans, but wow, she just wears that lab coat around? Well, he supposes people are entitled to like that sort of thing.

“Dr…Geiszler?”

“Oh, whoops, sorry…been a bit scatterbrained lately. Ok, so number two.” He leaned in a little to practically fucking hiss/maybe whisper,  
“Hermann does not know I’m going to drift again. Hermann is not going to find out about this, and if I should die, he is not going to drift with the kaiju, ok?” He says this all very quickly, and she stands there listening with that steady, unnerving gaze. When he’s finished, they stand in silence for a moment before she opens her mouth to speak,  
  
“Ok, I assume Marshall Hansen might have informed me, but I wanted to speak to you first and make sure you knew what you were signing up for.” Her voice is as even as her stare. Newt snorts,

“So now the PPDC cares about how informed I am? Look, I know enough to know that there is a really good possibility this will either kill me or leave me brain damaged,” his voice sounds raw in his ears.

“I am hoping it won’t since I try not to make a habit out of killing people in the name of science,” she’s still even in tone but her eyes spark.

“Oh well, too late on that one,” Newt spits out. Lightcap flinches a little. It had been years since the early days of Pons testing, but Newt has read the files.

“This may come as a surprise to you, but as curious as I am about what your drifts may uncover, coming here was not my decision.” Her cheeks are red, and just like that, Newt knows he can’t hate her.

Which is frustrating because he _really_ wants to. She is essentially going to be the engineer of his destruction. The conductor leading that speeding train that is his brain right off the rails. But, like him, she hadn’t really been given a choice. _Fuck._

“If it helps, you’re not getting hooked up tomorrow. I plan to take this slow. I plan to be _careful._ ” She sounds tight. Her shoulders are tense and she stares at the floor. Newt sighs.

“Look, dude, I…I don’t want to deal with this today. I get what you’re saying, but...sorry. See you tomorrow. I’ll be in the lab if you need me, but, like…don’t.” Her expression in that moment is hard to parse, but she nods as he turns and heads back.

Hermann  glances over when he comes back in. His expression is neutral if a little tight-lipped.

“Yeah, I’ll be working with Caitlin in the mornings…but like…I’ll be here in the afternoons…” Newt says in his best attempt at casual and Hermann shifts to a frown.

“I’m not your sitter, Newton, I don’t need to be aware of where you are constantly,” the words lack bite, but Newt still turns red and scratches at his hair.

“I know, I was just…saying…in case you wondered…” he trails off in a blaze of stupidity and turns back to his desk.

So that went smoothly. He can still feel Hermann’s gaze lasering into his spine, but eventually the weight of it recedes and, yeah…that went…well.

At least Caitlin might lie for him while he’s in there. If it comes to that, she might go along with it. When he dives into…it.

_The drift._

He’s gonna go swimming, his brain informs him and he almost giggles aloud. Hysterics wishing to bubble up to the surface.

But no, because he does not want this. He does not want this. _He does not want this._

He grips the edge of his desk tightly. Feels the sharp corners digging into his palm.

And they plan to drag it out? So it won’t even be over quickly. It will be a slow degradation of his sanity. A repetitive torture where he willingly comes back for more, because _what else is there._

He could leave and Hermann wouldn’t hear, but where would he go? Collapsing in the halls might get noticed. So he sits.

It’s not happening yet, it’s happening later. Coming soon. To be continued.

He does not want this, but there is no choice. No choice. No alternatives. No options.

Fuck, this is not helping. Breathing is a no go. Hyperventilation comes in unsteady waves.

_—Kill bite tear pieces shatter them all—_

No, can this not happen now? For the love of fuck. His head is spinning. Somebody is talking and his ears are ringing.

_—teeth rip blood—_

Hands are on his shoulders. His chair spins but it is not his doing. Suddenly his vision is full of Hermann.

“Newton, can you tell me what is the matter?” Frustration rings out in the weighted and clipped syllables. But there is an undercurrent of concern? Maybe? He is really dizzy. His chest aches.

He can’t tell Hermann what the matter is. He could talk about the matter with atoms and mass, but not this matter in particular. Do thoughts have mass? Are they weighing him down? Maybe he needs a lobotomy.  
  
Say something.

“Kaiju” is what he manages in one fraying gasp. Hermann stares at him for a long moment. The sounds of too rapid breathing fill the room, sounding ragged and strained. Something in Hermann’s expression cracks.

But not like the breach that was filled with kaiju when they unplugged the ocean and came spilling out. They will pull him down. They _are_ pulling him down a whirlpool, or a blackhole. Hermann rests two fingers against his carotid and must feel the flailing pulse beneath.

It’s possible to die from lack of oxygen. Is he crying right now? Hermann is walking away from him.

He is getting something from his desk.

He comes back with a book. Newt pulls his legs up onto the chair against his chest; he's shaking. When did he start shaking?

Hermann leans against his desk, does not look at him, and opens the book. When he begins to read, it’s casual. Soft spoken, even.

“‘Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,  
 Enwrought with golden and silver light,  
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths,  
 Of night and light and the half light…’”

Newt is about to open his mouth and gasp out something like _what the fuck, Hermann?_ When the drift answers him first _—_

_—Hermann sits with the covers pulled up to his chin, knowing there are no monsters under the bed. There is nothing in the closet, but he can’t sleep because every time they turn out the lights he can’t breathe. Mother sits and reads aloud._

_“Focus on the words, darling,”_

Vater _doesn’t know. He wouldn’t appro—_

“’…But I, being poor, have only my dreams;  
I have spread my dreams under your feet;  
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams’…” he trails off as turns the page with a mumble of, “Yeats what a silly man.”

“You don’t have… to bother” Newt sputters, still gasping. And sweating too. His entire self is vibrating in varying rhythms. Hermann pauses on a page and looks at him sidelong. He does not say anything for a moment.

“Focus on the words,” he says and then he turns another page.

“What is this nonsense, the authors aren’t even organized alphabetically," He mutters as his eyes find a new passage.  
"'When I have fears that I may cease to be  
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain…’”

Well that’s on point, Hermann. Not that he knows it, of course. Newt will try Hermann’s way because his way of sitting and _freaking out_ is massively unhelpful. Focus on the words, focus on the words, _focus_.

Tomorrow isn’t happening right now, tomorrow is hours away, it isn’t happening _right now._ Hermann sounds really calm.

“Oh, look, its Byron,  
‘There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,  
There is a rapture on the lonely shore…’”

He focuses on the words. He wonders if it was the words that mattered or the voice that read them out of loyalty, or something else. Hermann would be livid if somebody dared to call him kind. He takes deep breaths and holds them before exhaling slowly.

“Of course there’s Shakespeare, this isn’t even a poem, it’s from the Tempest.” He quips before launching into,  
“’Our revels now are ended. These our actors,  
 As I foretold you, were all spirits…’”

Breathe. Keep breathing. Good job lungs. One poem’s ending blends into another’s beginning

“’ To see a World in a Grain of Sand  
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower  
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand  
And Eternity in an hour…’”

The shaking has settled back into just his hands.

Hermann’s now muttering about Tennyson being ‘good stuff.’

He listens. The words fill his ears and he breathes. The room has stilled on its axis and he is still breathing. The words continue as Hermann drops them one by one like pennies in a wishing well.

“’…That which we are, we are;  
One equal temper of heroic hearts,  
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will  
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.’ I rather like that one.”

And he would, wouldn’t he? Hermann would love that particular poem.

Newt never sat and read poetry before. Some of it was kind of nice.

Hermann flips a few pages and glances over at him. Without a word, he reaches over and presses those two fingers gently against his neck. They lock eyes for a moment and Hermann takes his hand away. He shuts the book and goes back to his side of the lab without a word.

“Uh…thanks,” Newt calls over, because hey, the man just _read to him_.

“Just be grateful you did not have another _seizure, gutte Gott._ ” His tone is reassuringly brittle. Newt almost smiles at the man’s back, but tomorrow stops him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so obviously there is a lot going on here.  
> First off Caitlin. I researched with the wiki and googling as much as I could from the comments. She is as true to canon visually as I could make her. Also I've never seen a fic really handle her OCD aside from mentioning it(according to the wiki it's been a lifelong struggle). I had a friend with OCD who never showed any stereotypical symptoms but I wanted a visual indicator of her emotional state. So the hands. They are all red and dry because she washes them too much and yeah nail biting.
> 
> Second off panic attacks. I have had panic attacks several times and nobody has ever read to me as a method of helping but in certain situations I imagine it might be helpful(Not if I'm getting shots though because fuck needles)  
> And ok the poetry was also and excuse to indulge in a little word porn. (oh and btw I speak from experience poem anthologies are often organized in the stupidest ways)In order here are the poems that we actually hear Hermann read.  
> [He Wishes for the Clothes of Heaven by W.B. Yeats](http://www.elise.com/q/quotes/yeats.htm)  
> [When I have Fears That I May Cease to Be by John Keats](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173753)  
> [The Sea by Lord Byron](http://www.bartleby.com/360/5/266.html)  
> [From Act 4 Scene 1 of The Tempest by William Shakespeare](http://web.cs.dal.ca/~johnston/poetry/revelsended.html)  
> [The Auguries of Innocence by William Blake](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/172906)  
> And finally: [Ulysses by Lord Alfred Tennyson](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174659)
> 
> I highly recommend reading all of these because poetry is rad


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd Thepsychoticchef :)

Hermann has not said a word to Newton after his…was it a panic attack? Some sort of mental breakdown? The only explanation he had gotten was ‘kaiju’, and it pained him to imagine what in god’s name was going through that man’s head in relation to the dead alien race that might have elicited that response. He glanced over at Newton, who was still seated at his desk. He was working on his computer mostly. Hermann could not tell what he was doing, but it seemed absorbing enough that Newton barely moved from his spot for the next several hours.

Finally, around 8pm, Newton stands up from his seat. Hermann turns to see Newton looking at him. He isn’t saying anything, but he seems to be attempting to communicate something with his eyes. They stare at each other in silence for what seems like ages, but in actuality is probably a minute.

Newton looks away first.

“I will see you tomorrow afternoon, Newton,” Hermann says before turning to face his desk. There is a pause.

“Yeah…sure,” an attempt at a laugh that falls flat and Newton is gone.

Hermann sighs, feeling the emptiness of the lab once again.

Newton had not questioned the strange tradition his English mother had instilled in him. Or at least, he hadn’t objected.

 _Vater_ did not approve of her coming in to read to him. He thought she encouraged Hermann’s ‘childish behaviors’ by comforting him. His fear of the dark and the night had followed him until he was a teenager. Fortunately, when he had learned to read, Mother no longer had to help him through it.

His sister had sent him _The Poem Anthology_ in his first year at the PPDC with the note ‘in case you get nightmares.’ He could never tell if it was intended to be teasing or heartfelt, but he held onto the volume through three shatterdomes.

With Newton.

Hermann remembers those early days well. When the PPDC was still forming and calls were being put out to the best and brightest in an attempt to thinktank their way to a solution.

Hermann had helped build the Jaegers, helped write the code, helped draw up the blueprints.

He had enrolled in the newly minted Jaeger academy because he wanted to fight monsters. Even though now they were no longer under his bed, they were under the ocean floor; no longer hiding in darkness, but beneath the waves.

He had begun training at the academy for six months, alongside the other soon to be pilots, before he was informed he could not continue.

They needed his mind, not his body.

He was handicapped.

 _Vater_ had just wanted to protect him.

He was given so many reasons, but none of them proved to be a suitable salve for the wounds left by the whole event.

Except those letters.

Newton had sent the first letter, right when he had enrolled in the academy. Dr. Newton Geiszler had read one of his papers on spatial rifts and quantum distortions and thought it was ‘rad.’ On paper the man was brilliant. A little scatterbrained and overly fond of modern linguistical terms, such as ‘rad,’ but brilliant all the same.

Newton asked him whether or not he had applied these theories to the breach; whether he had any knowledge of the physics required for creatures, such as the kaiju, to crawl out of such a breach, as well as a host of other various thoughts and ideas that all ran together in a steady stream.

He had responded quickly and thoroughly, and so began the lengthy email exchange, which spanned scientific as well as mathematical debates. He had written that he was in the jaeger program and Newton had said ‘rock on’

When he had been removed from the Jaeger program he wrote to Newton, and the man’s response was ‘fuck them to hell, Hermann, you keep rocking on with your mathematical theories and it will be their loss.’

They had corresponded for another month or so before Hermann received his orders that he was being assigned to the Sydney Shatterdome to continue his research in tandem with the growing K-science division.

He had walked into that lab to see half of it spattered with _actual kaiju entrails,_ and a man running around the middle of it looking disheveled, bespectacled, and tattooed. For all intensive purposes the man looked like a train wreck. He had grinned at Hermann,

“New guy, huh? Dr. Newton Geiszler, first kaiju-ologist…or well I am working on a better name…” he trailed off at the look of _horror_ on Hermann’s face because this was the man he had been writing to? This man? He was playing some sort of offensively loud rock music from a stereo and the whole scene set his teeth on edge.

“Dr. Hermann Gottlieb,” And it had been Newton’s turn to go wide eyed.

It took them less than five minutes to have their first argument.

It took less than a week for Hermann to draw the first of many lines down the center of the floor, telling Newton to keep the kaiju entrails on his side of the lab.

It took less than a month for their colleagues (who joined them one by one over the coming weeks) to simply leave the room when voices began to get louder.

It was like this at the Moscow Shatterdome too.

But soon, budgets were cut. They could not afford to have teams anymore and assistants were let go. Then colleagues were handing over notes and leaving. The K-science team was back down to two.

They had relocated to Hong Kong and Raleigh Beckett had rejoined the fold. Him and Mako Mori had climbed into Gypsy Danger and helped avert an apocalypse.

Hermann and Newton had drifted.

Things had changed a great deal over the course of ten years; changed faster than Hermann could track and it alarmed him on far too many levels. He now found himself missing what had at least been a steady routine, even as the weight of impending destruction had weighed on him so heavily.

His cell phone begins to buzz on the desk

Mako has sent him a text.

// _Hey Hermann check out the interview we did for ACN. I am fairly certain I came off as mentally damaged_ //

It startles a laugh from him as he stares at the tiny screen. He nimbly taps out a response.

// _Alright, but I am sure you wouldn’t be the only one if that were true_ //

He is already pulling up the ACN’s web channel when his phone buzzes

// _Just tell me how bad it is please. I can’t watch it_ //

ACN's schedule informs him the interview should be coming up in a few minutes, so he sits and watches the news. He hasn’t had time to pay attention to it as of late.

There’s a lot of focus on the aftermath. Cleaning up after all the damages in Hong Kong and the surrounding areas.

There’s a final discussion with a panel that grabs his attention. Most of them are discussing the future of the PPDC, whether it is right for it to get continued funding, whether it’s necessary. One guest on the show chimes in about the possibility of a second breach. She has dark hair and cites his research, what little of it the PPDC released.

She is quickly drowned out by the financial debate, but he stares at her sitting in relative silence for the last minute of the segment. Like the rest of them, she smiles and nods as they go to commercial.

It leaves him feeling unsettled. There’s a few ads, but thankfully they pass quickly. He cannot bear the tinny music and canned feeling of advertisements at the moment.

There’s a brief title sequence introducing a talk show and it’s host. A male interviewer is sitting in front of Mako and Mr. Beckett. Mako is tense and stiff in her seat. She fidgets with the hem of a very flattering floral dress they put on her. It makes the blue of her hair stand out.

Mr. Beckett is the picture of composure. He sits with his back straight but he does not appear stiff. He smiles at the interviewer and it appears thoroughly genuine.

“So, do you have any plans now that you’ve helped save the world?” The interviewer asks in a humorous if obnoxious manner. Beckett leans in, playfully conspiratorial.

“I planned on having a drink,” he grins at the interviewer with more good humor and the other man laughs.

“And you, Ms. Mori?” she glances over at him and Beckett.

A moment passes in silence.

“I was planning on buying her a drink too!” Beckett interrupts with another attempt at levity that falls a little flat. Mako bites her lip. Beckett looks at her and the concern shows clear on his face. Maybe a little hurt too.

His phone buzzes

// _Are you watching it?_ //

// _Patience if you please. I am watching it. You do not seem damaged; You seem anxious._ //

// _Well that’s true. Have you watched the whole thing?_ //

// _Not yet. Am I to be your TV critic? I will do it if you ask, but I am certainly not the most qualified to criticize TV appearances._ //

// _Just watch the rest_ //

And the interviewer just began another question.

“So what's the Drift like?”

There’s a silent moment where the two look at each other in tandem. Mako's hair temporarily hides her face from the camera. They stare at each other, but what passes between them is beyond verbal. Beckett faces forward slowly, uncertain. Mako is the one to speak, she faces forward, but does not look at the camera or the interviewer,

“It’s hard…You are practically exposing yourself to this other person…it can be very difficult initially.” Hermann winces knowing how fond people are of innuendo.

“It really can be a very eye opening experience” Beckett adds with a glance over at Mako, who has resumed toying with the hem of her dress.

The camera cuts to the interviewer making some sort of sincere expression. It might have been genuine, but Hermann had little patience for talk shows.

“And both of you have experienced great losses over the course of this fight,” he says in a sympathizing tone, leaving the statement open for them to respond. Mako slowly clenches a fist in her lap and stares at the floor. Beckett looks at her and then seems to stare at the same spot of floor. It looks less odd when they both are staring at the floor. It looks like there is something there to see.

“Yes, we have. And we will move on in time,” Beckett says softly. It’s hard to tell who he is speaking to at that moment. He looks at Mako again before smiling for the host.

“The screen is saying it’s time for a commercial,” Beckett says, reverting to the teasing. The host laughs.

“So it is! When we get back from the break we have Bruce Willis to talk to us about Die Hard 6: Still Dying, right after these messages!”

// _Mostly it just seems like the pair of you have some unresolved tensions. You do not come off mentally deficient in any way._ // Hermann texts Mako.

// _We have two more shows tomorrow. I almost wish I had been eaten by a kaiju_ //

// _It could be worse. Let Mr. Beckett carry the interviews. He seems quite good at it._ //

// _He is, why Hermann WHY??_ //

// _Well, he had practice._ //

// _Hermann I know that I am… shouting why to the heavens_ //

// _Oh. Does that help?_ //

// _Not really but imagining myself shouting is a bit satisfying_ //

// _It could be worse_ //

// _How could it be worse Hermann?_ //

// _I could be doing interviews with you instead of Mr. Beckett_ //

// _Oh god_.  _Sorry Hermann but oh god. I wouldn’t speak and neither would you unless the interviewer asked an incorrect question. You would only speak to correct him._ //

// _That sounds like an accurate scenario._ //

// _Thank you Hermann_ //

// _Your welcome Mako._ //

He is about to put his phone away when it buzzes one more time

// _:)_ // He stares at the punctuation marks, knowing they are intended to look like a smiling face, and laughs a little to himself. He had never imagined this is what a saved world would look like; An unstable, worrisome colleague, and smiling faces sent via text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated.  
> Also next chapter will mark the return of Gia!! (I am the most excited about this by far) Also what may be several Newt centric chapters in a row.  
> IRL things are sucking pretty hardcore right now so like...I started writing the next chapter but we will see how long it takes :/


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrected by Thepsychoticchef  
> Apologies in advance. I can only shout from the rooftops I KNOW NO SCIENCE. I did a little research and the rest is entirely made up please don't read this for the science it would make you so sad.

Newt wakes up feeling a deep sense of dread. He stumbles out of bed in the clothes he wore yesterday because honestly he _does not care._

He feels the weight of his fear in his arms and in his stomach. He feels it in his shaking fingers and in his temples that haven’t _stopped pounding_ in what seems like days.

He tastes his fear in that sour tang that’s sitting on his tongue. A mix of ‘he really should have brushed his teeth last night’ and something else that isn’t actually in the air he’s breathing, but it feels like it is.

He smells his fear in the musty festering scent of old sweat that overwhelms him. It is at this point that he decides he should at least change his shirt.

He sees his fear, red on his fingertips, when he tentatively prods at his nose. He sees it stained an ugly dark color on his pillow case where it’s dried overnight.

He hears his fear in the stuttery sound of his breathing and the hammering of his heartbeat. He sighs, because standing here will only prolong what is inevitable.

He gets his sorry ass over to medical in a moderately timely fashion.

Upon entering the room he sees Caitlin set up at a table taking notes. She looks up when he enters.

“Hello, Dr. Geiszler. Today I thought we might start by running a few tests to get a baseline. Dr. Siddiq will be in charge of gathering that data.” She nods to somewhere behind him and he turns to see, oh look, it’s Gia the anarchist lab tech.

She is giving him an _ugly_ look. What? What did he do to deserve that look? To be fair, he can be quite a dick on a regular basis, but Newt’s pretty sure he has been doing _great_ for the last day or so. Hermann actually read him _poetry_ yesterday for goodness sakes. He must be doing _something_ right.

She does not speak and simply turns down a hall with the clear expectation that he should follow.

“Where’s that other doctor guy?”

“Reassigned.”

“Oh.” It’s a shame since tall, light, and bland was probably perfectly capable at his job. Gia does not speak again until they’ve entered the room with the MRI machine.

“We’ll be getting a few new faces in here as the powers that be move us around to suit them,” Gia says and it comes out dripping like hydrochloric disdain. Newt looks at her and then at the machine.

The machine looks remarkably unused, except for a large dent in the side. It’s an open MRI with the raised portion behind the head rest and the large extension that hangs mere inches above the bed. Newt feels his stomach tighten a little at the sight of it.

Now Gia turns to face him with her hands digging into her hips.

“Were you not listening _at all_ the other day. I told you to _stay away from here._ Why the hell did you agree to this? Are you actually insane?” she says it all quickly and in a way that reminds him of Hermann a little. It makes him feel almost like laughing even as his temples pound and his eyes sting.

She is still staring at him with her dark eyes and a few strands of dark hair poking out from the light blue fabric of her hijab.

Newt wishes he could say something funny at this moment, but all he can think of is swallowing past the rock in his throat. She turns away abruptly and comes back with a tissue. Another nosebleed apparently, he is on fire today.

Like a house on fire and nobody has a fire extinguisher.

She appears less severe now as he mops at his nose without any delicacy, not caring that it stings.

“I _was_ listening. I might be insane. If I didn’t do it they were going to ask Hermann- I mean Dr. Gottlieb” he amends the last part, but he isn’t sure why. She is still staring, but the rage has been replaced with something tight-lipped and resigned. 

“I see,” she says as she lets her hands drop into the pockets of her lab coat.

“By the way Hermann doesn’t know about this. Any of it. I want it to stay that way.” He says the last bit with as much authority as he can muster and she simply continues to stare at him, her mouth twisting a little.

“This is a trainwreck in the making,” she states. He nods and laughs a little.

“Yeah it is, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got The Marshall and Caitlin to agree that if they fail with me they won’t continue with this line of research.”

Gia sighs and shakes her head.

"Dr. Gottlieb's a decent guy, you really ought to tell him about this."

"First off, no. And second, you know Hermann?" Newt asks

"He comes here for checkups when he remembers to," she says. 

"I've done his X-rays a few times." She waves her hand in some vague but casual way.

"Oh," is all Newt can say because, yeah, that makes sense. Gia sighs again because it's that sort of a day,

“Let’s get this going; lie down on the table.” She walks into a smaller room with a large window overlooking the MRI machine and fiddles with the controls, leaving Newt alone to stare at the machine. He thinks that Hermann probably wouldn't have an issue with getting onto the MRI table. it’s not that bad. It could be worse. Could be closed.

He lies down on the table and stares up at the wide expanse of the MRI’s upper attachment that sits flat like a low ceiling just inches above his nose. His heart pounds a little as he inhales slowly and reminds himself there is enough air to breath.

If he spread his arms wide he could not reach the edges of this thing. Maybe that’s what fucks him up even though the likelihood of this thing actually crushing him is probably in the decimal percentiles. But still he lies there and stares at it, wondering if he can breathe.

“Close your eyes for goodness sake,” Gia interrupts his panic with pure irritation through the speakers in the machine. She would get along  _so well_  with Hermann.

“The MRI is starting so _do not move_ ,” Newt feels mildly offended by this since,  _duh,_ he isn’t a total moron of course he can’t move, it’s an MRI. But he isn’t sure he can breath, speak, and keep still at the same time so he settles for taking a deep unsteady breath and he hears Gia sigh through the speaker.

MRI’s might be the devil.

He hears something crackle through the speakers. Is this music? Is this from Lord of the Rings? He is sure this played when Frodo went to Lothlorien.

“Yes it’s a soundtrack and yes it’s Lord of the Rings. It would probably be wise if you continued to be quiet.”

Newt shuts his eyes and listens to the haunting vocals. Soon that shifts to…this was Rohan music. Possibly Return of the King.

So Gia listens to Lord of the Rings music. That is not what he would have guessed and it isn’t necessarily his music of choice but he mentally applauds her life choices.

So he sits. He listens. He breathes.

After what feels like an eternity she says over the speaker,

“The MRI is done, you can move now.” For a moment he doesn’t, he just sits and imagines being crushed by the MRI, but she interrupts his morbid daydream by walking back into the room and standing beside the machine.

“What your doing is stupid, you know that right?”

“Probably,” he says like a sigh. She stares at him, her expression unreadable.

She reaches over and rests a hand softly on his arm for a moment. A squeeze, and it’s gone.

“Get up, Geiszler, time for the EEG,” he grumbles as he stands,

“How many pictures do you plan to take of my brain?”

“A lot. Be grateful she is being thorough at least,” she replies.

“Meh.” 

They leave the MRI room and go to a standard examination room. She lays him down on this bed and goes to fetch the machine. He stares at the speckled ceiling that manages to look like the speckled ceiling of every doctors office _ever._ Do they all shop at the same ceiling store? What is that even?

Gia returns, wheeling the EEG computer in and all those electrodes. She begins attaching them to his forehead when she says,

“You know, I hate to break it to you; But if Hansen and Lightcap are already doing this against their will I doubt that giving their word will be enough to stop the PPDC from keeping this up.” Newt turned to stare at her with wide eyes and alarm.

“I think you should consider that. Even if they leave Hermann out of this, people are freaked and somebody somewhere is going to get roped into this.”

She says it like fact and it puts an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach, because its true and he wishes it weren’t.

With the EEG test completed and the electrode paste washed off Newt's head, she runs a CT scan, and finally after what seems like ages, he stumbles into the room they've set up for the drift. A piece of Raiju’s brain floats in a huge glass jar not unlike the one from his lab.

He considers pickles.

Caitlin is sitting in a chair looking through a file. She is seated near a mess of wires and equipment that looks only slightly better than what he whipped up a few days ago.

He wants to vomit but finds reasons not to, like feeling even shittier. His temples pound as a less than gentle reminder that he doesn’t need bile too.

“So overall you’ve got some abnormalities; That can’t be avoided.” Caitlin says to the readouts in her hands. Newt can’t help but noticed one of her fingernails is torn and scabbed.

Newt has no answer for her so he just stands and tries not to vomit. Gia is hovering somewhere behind him.

“The fact is your neural pathways are overworked and that also can’t be fixed, so I would like to do this in stages over the next few days.” As she speaks she looks at him. Or next to him. She does not make eye contact.

“Just putting you in the Pons and turning it on will stimulate those pathways, so today we are just going to do that. The hope is that we might be able to ease you into the drift.”

She looks tired and her hands hold the papers a little too tightly. She is crinkling the edges.

Newton attempts a grin in her direction and fails.

“You wanted to take more time with this, didn’t you?” he asks and she resumes staring at the papers in her hands.

“The public wishes to celebrate our victory, but Dr. Gottlieb predicted another breach and the PPDC fears it could be tomorrow. This project is under their supervision and subject to their oversight. We are fortunate I was able to get them to agree to give you several days to work up to a full drift.” She says it all in a steely tone that is pure fact and nothing else.

But it looks to Newton Geiszler like Caitlin is crinkling at the edges.

“Well, I suppose we should get started then?” he asks and she does not meet his eyes.

“When we progress to the more intense testing I will have doctors standing by,” she says. Newt is nodding again and feels oddly like he wants to say sorry.

She’s only a few years older than he is, and not that much taller.

If he had a sister, she might be close to Caitlin’s age.

He sits in the chair and grips the arm rests as Caitlin attaches the Pons helmet. It locks into place with a heavy click.

Gia stands in the doorway and watches, tightly wound with nothing to do.

It comes as a small shock when Caitlin finally makes eye contact, “Are you ready?”

He nods and she turns to the wall of dials and flicks the switch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Caitlin...this is an unhappy Lightcap. I think Gia is actually taking note of how the Pons equipment is set up and stuff for future reference.  
> And Newt is very scared.  
> Sorry for the ending...maybe....


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrected by Thepsychoticchef ^_^

Anger and anxiety are invariably intertwined when it comes to dealing with Newton Gieszler; a man who quite possibly has more intelligence than actual sense.  
  
He wants to help Newton or strangle him. Often he feels both in profound simultaneity. Of course there is another applicable A-word in this mess, but Hermann refuses to consider it because the other two are far more than he can handle already.

_“You would do that for me? Or you would…you would do that with me?”_

One of the final exchanges before the drift rings ominous in his memory. He sees the event from doubled viewpoints and it is staggering and confusing.

He wishes he could measure and quantify what it is that he thinks and feels, but it defies all logical forms of appraisal. Newton is worse today and it is beginning to alarm him.

For roughly ten years the solution to their issues has been mostly solitude. Maybe it hurt a little more for Hermann to bear his problems alone, but he would have defied anyone’s attempts to help so it was better this way for certain. Meanwhile, Newton seemed to run on pure bravado, and Hermann always assumed that when the cracks were showing he would prefer privacy.

But now he has a fragment from before the drift, and it keeps coming back to him from mirrored perspectives. A glimpse of hope, fear, and other feelings he can’t quite name. So much of it is fear.

Coupled with the day before and Newton’s episode, neither of them has acknowledged it, but he can still recall the sensation of the man’s pulse racing beneath his fingertips.

But what does it all add up to? An equation where all variables are unknown cannot have a real solution.

And, Newton is worse today.

Newton comes in around 2PM and goes straight for his desk. He seems jittery and unsteady. Given the last few days this isn’t new, and yet it is like somebody has taken a proverbial knob and turned it up. He keeps picking things up and dropping them. A pencil, a notebook, his cell phone.

When a mug shatters, spilling coffee everywhere, Hermann finds himself standing and getting paper towels while Newton just stands there and stares at it.

It is only when Hermann makes to get on his knees and mop up the mess that Newton even moves. He grabs the wad of paper towels and starts talking as he kneels on the ground.

“Thanks, dude. I don’t know what’s with my hands today. Hands are really weird, you know?” He begins mopping up the coffee and Hermann gets a broom for the shards of the mug. Thank god it’s ceramic. Newton is still talking.

“I mean, have you ever thought about your metacarpal versus your carpal bones? I mean this is such a precise structure, if the tiniest bit of it is off the whole thing ceases to function.”

Newton is barely making any sense, but he has mopped up the bulk of the coffee with shaking hands, so Hermann sweeps up the shards and says nothing. He tries not to focus on the knot forming in his chest. The knot that’s been forming for the last several days. This behavior is not new and there is no reason to jump to conclusions based on…instincts.

Newton would. Newton would. But, he is not Newton, and he does not jump to conclusions. He sits, gathers data, and makes an informed hypothesis. He doesn’t have enough data to support this growing anxiety that has no cause for existence.

 _‘I have a bad feeling about this,’_ his new found knowledge of pop-culture informs him. In that particularly absurd series of films, people always ran on instinct because of some mystical religion…why was he thinking about Star Wars?

“Basically your adductors and your opponens are pretty cool, but, like…really who came up with those freaky long names? Well half of it’s Latin, or Greek anyway…” Newton trails off into silence. Something catches his gaze and he is suddenly far too still and staring at nothing in particular, with an intensity that is strange.

That knot tightens still further.

“Newton,” he says quietly. Newton jerks like he’s been burned.

“What? Sorry, I lost track, did you say something?” He grins and it’s manic.

Hermann shakes his head and goes back to his desk, because he doesn’t know what to say and he doesn’t know what to  _do_.

Newton is doing research with Dr. Lightcap, the woman who invented the drift technology. She must notice that something is wrong. Or perhaps she doesn’t. Perhaps she is too involved in whatever this research is that they are doing. He tries not to think too hard about how Newton is getting any research done in such a state. He tries not to think about why he is in such a state.  
  
Newton said they were researching alternative methods of extracting information about the kaiju. Hermann wants to trust him on that. Wants to trust that he couldn’t do anything stupider than what he had already done.

He picks up his phone and considers texting Mako, but how can text on a screen communicate this deep sense of dread? This unshakable feeling that something is very, very wrong.

He feels anger at what he cannot fix and cannot solve. He rages at the problems that cannot be coded and defined.

Ever since the drift he finds the anger comes more easily to him. He has always felt it, a lot of it in fact, but now it comes to him in two separate iterations.

One is endless and animal and disturbing. Alongside it is the equally endless well of impotent anger unexpressed; always contained, always hidden behind sarcasm and a crisp insult.

He feels so very angry, and the fact that he has no direct target for it only infuriates him further. Newton is not the problem, he is either a victim of it or part of its solution, and Hermann can’t figure out which it is.

All he knows is that Newton is worse today. This, more than anything else, causes him so much anger he has difficulty focusing on the numbers and the calm they usually provide.

Anger and anxiety are his only friends as Newton seems incapable of sense or basic coordination.

When Newton finally makes his way out of the lab, like a drunk or a small child who does not fully understand the concept of ‘legs,’ Hermann finally sighs.

He does not feel angry. His anger left with the man who wasn’t the cause.

 _‘I feel you dude,’_  says a small voice in his head that is only an echo of the man who just left. Sadly that echo sounds far better than it’s real counterpart.

Hermann sighs again. He is so tired and he isn’t angry.

He is scared.

He grips the phone in his hand because he needs to tell someone. Tell them what?

His phone vibrates and he startles in his seat.

It’s a text from Mako

//I don’t know how much more of this I can take//

Good god. What has her been day been like? Could it have been worse than his own? Quite possibly.

He stares at the screen for a long moment before typing a response.

//Me neither.//

Less than a minute later his phone actually rings. He answers on the first ring.

“Hermann,” her voice sounds strained to breaking.

“Yes, Mako,” he says softly, wondering how he sounds to her.

“Me too.”

Then there is only silence as they listen to each other breathe.

He can hear her the telltale hitch in her inhale. She is starting to cry. He rests his head in his hand because he is tempted to do the same.

“Do you think it will get better?” she asks between soft hiccupping sobs.

Hermann sits and contemplates the idea. For her and for himself.

“I don’t know”

He wishes he could be there to provide some sort of comfort; an embrace or something meaningful. He wishes Pentacost were still alive to protect Mako from the pain that came from living in days like these. He wishes nobody had ever drifted and that things were still simple, and clean. Free from all the anxiety and the anger and the wreckage left in their wake.

He wishes for a world where he can walk on two good legs; a world where he never met Dr. Newton Geiszler.  
  
He wishes for all the things he cannot have and more, because it is all he can do.

He imagines all the wishes clutched in his hands like strings leading nowhere.

Mako is still crying softly in his ear. He considers asking what happened. How all these interviews are going. How it must be to stand next to Raleigh when just looking at him feels like being burned.

Instead he says, “I’m sorry,” and he can hear her hiccup another sob or maybe something else.

“Me too, Hermann…for you.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that so he sits and listens as he stops crying and gets herself under control.

“How much longer do you have on the tour?” he asks and she sighs.

“I’ve decided not to count days until they are in the single digits.”

“Seems like a wise plan,” he tells her.

“And how about you, Hermann? How are you doing?” her voice is gentle in his ears. He stares at his desk and ponders the question.

“Newton is worse today. Dr. Caitlin Lightcap is here to do research on the kaiju.” The words come out barely connected by a sigh.

“Oh wow, Dr. Lightcap,” Mako says with an attempt at lightness for both their sakes. He humors her since dwelling on the problem isn’t getting him very far.

“Yes, it was nice to get to see her again. Perhaps at some point we can have a discussion about Pons technology. It would be fascinating I’m sure.”

“You should ask her if all the rumors are true.” He can hear the hint of a smile in her voice. She is very good at this. His lips twitch at the corners, practically of their own accord.

“Surely after all these years the stories have been somewhat blown out of proportion,” he says.

“Oh come on, everybody says her and Sergeant D’onofrio were an item. He was seizing during that experiment, she plugged in a second Pons helmet, and bam the invention of drifting,” there is sincere enthusiasm as she recounts the supposed events.

“It is a gripping tale,” he says with a hint of aridity which she ignores.

“It’s more than gripping. Stacker always said it was true…” she trails off suddenly and Hermann does not know what to say.

The silence reigns for a long moment.

“Do you want me to go? …I don’t want to…” Hermann struggles to express what he means.

“No, I think I would like some company right now,” she says, her voice cracking incrementally.

Hermann wishes he was better at this.

He begins to speak and hopes that words, any words, might be comforting. He talk softly and even manages to occasionally work up a thin veneer of his usual levels of disdain for the world he inhabits.

He asks her about classical music. He talks about his favorite mathematical functions (he is very fond of pi). He discusses what little he’s been getting from watching the news about the current status of the PPDC. He tells Mako about reading poetry to Newton, about his hyperactive speech and new found tendency of dropping everything in sight. He even reads her a few verses from The Poem Anthology.

After about an hour where she barely spoke and he continued talking, because it was better than silence; Because she had asked him to stay, and because he was making an effort. What else could he do in this situation? Finally, she interrupted him midstream while describing why he really preferred his dusty chalkboard to a digital one.

 “Hermann,” she says and he stops speaking. He had been beginning to wonder if she had fallen asleep.

“Thank you.” The words startle him a little and he sits and says nothing for several moments.

“You are welcome”

They say goodbye and hang up, and then Hermann is alone in the lab again. Alone with his thoughts, his anger, and his endless anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I keep surprising myself by finding there is more Hermann POV than I thought there would be.  
> Also all that stuff Newton is spouting. He is talking about bones and muscles in the hand and not making a ton of sense.  
> And sorry I made Mako cry....god I want to hug her at this point.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter corrected by the lovely and talented Thepsychotic chef

So, Newt thinks that maybe humans weren’t meant to drift. Maybe they weren’t structurally built for it.

Because drifting is never a good thing. Drifting in space, in the ocean, drifting out into the endless vast nothing of a void.

Just look at the definition of drift: to be carried along by currents of water or air, or by the force of circumstances. To wander aimlessly.

Yeah…

Carried along by circumstance. To wander without aim.

None of that sounds very awesome. In fact, it sounds awful. Who would want that? His hands haven’t stopped shaking for hours.

H gets the metaphorical significance of the term. They say ‘don’t follow the rabbit,’ don’t get stuck, don’t get caught in your partners mind or in god knows what else. One has to just sit and let go as the currents fly by. Of course, no one ever considers the currents eroding as they go. Well they wouldn’t, would they?

Pilots get trained for this. There are schools for this. They drift on tested equipment, not stuff they threw together with their own two hands because there was a world ending deadline hanging over them. He has difficulty holding a steady train of thought. Maybe he’s been hit by a train? A brain train. That sounds kind of cool actually, good band name for somebody musically inclined.

Hermann could start a band called Brain Train where they only play classical music and all their lyrics are stuff written by dead poets.

Dead Poet’s society was a pretty cool movie…Carpe diem, seize _—_

_—Body’s crushing underfootbodies in the way everywhere vermin—_

_—_ the day. Wait, what?

Hermann’s been giving him some odd looks in the last day or so, he knows that, but does he suspect what Newt’s doing with his day?

He is in the medical bay now.

And he hasn’t really slept…probably for the last 2 days…or maybe 3?

He still isn’t doing so well on the eating side of things either.

Newton Geiszler: a failure of survival instincts.

Darwin would look at him and laugh.

So, Gia has traded in her face melting rage look for something a little less sharp. Still pretty pissed, but he thinks it might not be directed at him anymore. She had done a second round of scans earlier today.

Caitlin looks exhausted staring at his results, and he wonders if faces can get new lines in a day, or if he didn’t notice them the day before.

“So, no physical abnormalities, that’s good…” She says with a brief glance in his direction  
“You have probably noticed we’ve got Raiju’s brain all hooked up.”

He did notice that some poor soul must have put on a hazmat suit, or something on, and hopped into that tank with the massive piece of floating brain and placed electrodes all over it. Presumably this is part of her more advanced human+kaiju drift interface, and sure, electrodes might have helped. He had been in a bit of a hurry though, so nobody is going to judge him for skipping the electrodes, right? He just boosted a few sensory inputs and data streams. Maybe added a bit here or there. It was no big thing.

Caitlin’s been talking this whole time, he should listen to that

“So no neural handshake today. I’m holding off on that. We’re just going to turn the machine on with both you and…well…”

Neural handshake…God, that was one hell of a phrase because who _—_

_—Father stared at him like he was a foreign thing. He was old enough now to understand that his father had probably had children more for the sake of having them, than actually wanting them._   
_He was standing there trying to discuss his AS Level results with him. Discussing the possibility of going to school in the country or elsewhere. Possibly Germany._   
_Father seemed barely interested. His eyes continually flicking back to his computer and whatever he was working on._   
_“You’re old enough to make your own decision”—_

_—_ invented that phrase and it sort of made…sense…what was he thinking just now? Caitlin’s talking. Has she been talking this whole time? Maybe.

He had a thought yesterday about her…what was it? Ah,

“Hey, shouldn’t I be signing lots of papers saying you and the PPDC aren’t responsible if I die? Or…something?” The words tumble out, tripping over each other as they go and then abruptly slowing down as uncertainty holds them back.

Caitlin’s response is a rare moment of steady eye contact.

“Yes, you probably should,” and with that she returns to fiddling with the instruments in front of her. Newt’s hand twitches a little at the sight of it. He so wants a chance to fiddle. To examine how she put this together to make it work.

But that does seem like a lot of work at the moment. He is suddenly remembering the chorus of ‘It’s a Hard Knock Life,’ which is weird, because he _hated_ Annie.

“So, are you ready?” She’s there in front of him looking frayed and exhausted. One hand rests on the armrest of his chair. There’s dried blood sitting on tattered nail beds and the skin on her knuckles looks red and irritated.

He nods at her hands because her eyes are kind of hard to take at the moment.

The hand retreats and she is back to her wall of dials and things that he can’t play with because he is the one in the chair about to go round 2 with the machine. Round 2 plus a kaiju.

She flicks the switch and it’s like somebody is flooding is brain with light and heat and something electric. It was like this yesterday, but it feels more intense today. Like there’s something new in the currents that he can’t pick up on, but it’s there and it’s waiting for him.

Caitlin is watching him closely. Watching readouts and watching him.

He wonders if steam might fly out of his ears, like the cartoons he used to watch on Saturday morning, because who didn’t watch The Looney Tunes at least once?

Caitlin asks him something and he makes some noise in response.

The currents start in his brain and work their way through him. He feels like he is on fire.

Fire that burns

Crackles

Crackles and burns

Burns and crackles.

Finally it r e c  e  d  e   s.

R el ie  f

Pal pabl e  re lief.

He is so ti re d.

Yet he feels full of energy that needs an outlet.

His hands shake. His nose is bleeding.

Caitlin is calling his name. Gia has stepped into the room, brows knitted in …something…he forgets the word.

“Dr. Geiszler, can you respond?” She may have asked this more than once.

“Yes,” he nods and regrets it.

She sighs, “Can you elaborate?”

He stands because he is sick of sitting and overbalances. Caitlin catches him.

“Um…I feel…ok?” It comes out like a question and Caitlin is frowning at him.

“Go back to your quarters. Go rest. I’m going to see if I can get you tomorrow off. I will send somebody for you if needed.” She says this all in a matter a fact way, but she is still sort of holding Newt off the ground.

Gia is suddenly there with a tissue. She grabs him by the shoulder to steady him and shoves the tissue into his hand. He stares at it for a moment before recalling what its function is.

“I can walk you to your room if you need,” she offers and Newt waves the offer away with an unsteady hand and a bloody tissue.

“Dude, I’m not 5. Let me know if you need me tomorrow and stuff.” He says it all a bit too quickly. The words sound slightly off in his ears, but he just turns and tries to walk out the door like the floor isn’t moving beneath his feet.

He does not go back to his room because he is not stupid. There is nothing in his room but silence and a severe lack of windows. Plus, he still has to go to the lab and convince Hermann nothing is wrong.

Because nothing is wrong.

Everything is _fine._

Everything is _awesome_.

He is currently walking on a floor that seems determined to make him lose him balance, and fuck you too floor, by the way. But whatever, he is walking like a pro and it’s awesome.

He gets to the lab and feels more than sees Hermann turn to look at him.

He should turn on some music, because there is silence and it is _heavy_.

He could start talking, but he doesn’t really trust his tongue.

The moment passes as Hermann goes back to whatever he was doing. The sound of chalk against board fills the room and wow Newt is t ir e d.

What’s he supposed to even be doing right now?

He is sitting.

He could just sit here, nobody is stopping him, it’s just that he wonders why he should be sitting. Why do people sit anyway? How come people haven’t invented a way to fly already for crying out loud, they have build giant robots but nobody has invented a jet pack? What the hell is this? Gene Roddenberry would be so disappointed. Wait Star Trek didn’t have jetpacks, and Roddenberry would have so much more to be disappointed about considering his visions of a futuristic utopia hadn’t included giant aliens ravaging the planet, because on Star Trek that shit just got beamed into space. Or reasoned with, or…well, mind melding is a bit like a one sided drift. Although creepier when the non Vulcan doesn’t quite consent to it, so that’s weird and—

— _All that training; six months with extra physical therapy in the hopes to combat the strain. Six months of pushing to prove that he could keep up, but they kicked him out anyway well they can go to hel_ — _Feel them crush bones breaking underfootdie slowly drippin_ — _He stares at the sky. At the billions of stars and he feels small surrounded by a vast infinity of_ — _eviscerate erasethem from this planet_ — _He pushes his glasses farther up his nose because nobody is listening to him, and the numbers are there. The numbers do not lie they_ — _teeth tearingflesh open blood dripping they arenot dying fast enoug_ —

—The re is h is d e s  k

He is in the lab.

He barely remembers his first drift.

He does not remember his second drift.

Is the whole Shatterdome spinning?

He wishes it wouldn’t

He feels sick.

He get’s several more flashes in the following minutes. Bodies and death and loving it with every fiber of his being. Numbers and equations and the safety of chalk. Tattoos being drawn sharply and a leg that hurts too much.

He can’t quite keep it all straight because his head hurts like hell. He can’t quite figure out who loved mass destruction and who watched Godzilla every Saturday night for a year when he was 10. Somebody had a father who seemed perpetually disappointed in his existence and somebody had a mother that was periodically terrifying and awesome at uneven intervals.

Somebody wanted to bring about the end of all other races. Somebody really just wanted to sit down and drink something alcoholic.

His hands are still shaking so he puts them in his lap. He feels a dripping on his upper lip and, with an uncoordinated swipe, he wipes blood away.

He sits like that for…awhile.

He does not hear his name called 3 times with shorter intervals and increased agitation.

He is vaguely aware of the sound of a cane tapping against concrete.

His head hurts.

“ _Newton._ ” How many times has Hermann said his name? Now it’s very close and the volume startles him so badly he nearly falls out of his chair.

There’s a hand on his shoulder and another hand spins his chair around so he is facing Hermann.

This is new.

This is…

Hermann’s expression is so…

Irritation is no longer present, as if some other feeling has finally annexed his features and taken up residence.

This is new.

His mouth is tight and so is the skin around his eyes. His brows are furrowed.

“Newton, _are you all right?_ ” Judging by his tone he has been asked this several times.

He makes a monosyllabic noise in response because he doesn’t really trust his own vocal chords, and also everything hurts. Starting from his skull and radiating out, everything hurts in a dull pounding, spasming sort of way.

Hermann places a hand against his forehead and his mouth tightens still further. His hand is cool and dry and Newt can’t help but shut his eyes.

This is new.

 “And you’re still adamant about avoiding the medical bay?” the question is soft, on the edge of something else.

The question…about medical bay. That’s a no, _no_ to medical bay. No to _Hermann_ in medical bay. Maybe if he can just keep Hermann away from this it will all work out. They won’t find some way to strong arm him into doing something this stupid.

Because if by some miracle Hermann said no, Newt has the distinct impression that the PPDC might find some subtle suggestive thing that would force Hermann to say yes like he had.

He is shaking his head aggressively in response(and regretting it instantly) and the man sighs.

“Well, you need to lie down. I can take you back to your room?”

His room; alone in the dark being flooded by all the thoughts that aren’t his. The thought of being alone.

He shakes his head again and Hermann sighs…again.

“The couch will do, I suppose.” He steps back and stares at Newt, expecting something. Newt stares at him blankly. Another sigh and then Hermann reaches over and grips him around the elbow, levering him out of the chair and steering him towards the couch. Hermann’s grip is firm and stronger than Newt would have suspected…if he had been thinking about such things.

When they come to the couch, Newt drops on it like melting wax, and Hermann is standing over him radiating tension.

They stare at each other for a moment, and then Hermann speaks,

“Newton, this may sound silly to you, but you haven’t uttered a full sentence since you entered this room. I would appreciate it very much if you would _say something_.” Newt rolls over a little to stare at Hermann from a more comfortable angle. Hermann is still tightlipped and showing that strange expression.

“Just so I know you _can_ ,” he adds for emphasis. Newt stares a little longer, giving the other man a brief longitudinal glance up and down his frame.

“Are you ok? You look weird,” Newt asks because it’s not that he can’t speak, it’s that his head and everything hurts like hell and he is choosing not to speak. He would be more than a little offended by the implications of Hermann’s request if it weren’t for the fact that…well…he hadn’t exactly been the paragon of normalcy for the last few days, so it was a fair point.

Hermann is acting strange, and that look painted all over him is new and kind of weird.

Maybe it’s…concern?

Is this new?

Meanwhile, his question seems to have broken some line of tension in Hermann, because with yet another sigh he walks away from the couch and over to his desk. He is just made of sighs today, as though dealing with Newt inflates him full of exasperated exhalations.

He is rifling through some drawers and Newt is beginning to wonder if Hermann’s desk is secretly like Mary Poppin’s handbag…or the TARDIS.

He should probably never admit to knowing about Mary Poppins if he wants to keep up his reputation as a rockstar with indie punk aesthetic.

Hermann goes into that little hidden kitchenette area that’s somewhere behind their mess of chalkboards and storage tanks.

Now, he comes back with a glass of water and two little white tablets in his hands.

“Acetaminophen,” Hermann says as he places the cup in Newt’s left hand and tips the pills into his right. Seems like a good idea, so Newt downs the pills with a gulp of water and then finds the cup removed.

Hermann places it on the floor next to the couch. From somewhere he produces a thermometer.

Where did that even come from? Have they had a first aid kit in the kitchenette this whole time? That would have been good to know…a lot of times in the past few years.

He sticks the end in Newt’s mouth without waiting for any kind of invitation, and so Newt stares at the digital readout sitting below his nose. After a minute, it beeps and Hermann takes the thermometer and reads the results. His mouth twists and he sighs again, looking sad and worried and … something else.

“39.38 Celsius” he murmurs looking over at Newt and then looking away.

A moment passes where Hermann just stands there, not looking at him, not walking away. His frame is still and uncertain.

Finally, he rests a hand on Newt’s forehead, and this time he lets it rest there a moment longer. Newt’s eyes are closing because everything hurts and sleep is probably a good idea. For once, he wants to have a good idea and implement it.

Hermann’s fingertips are resting gently near his temple and his hair. His touch is feather light as he slides his fingers through Newt’s unruly hair, pushing it off of his forehead. He repeats the motion once more. Newt tips his head back, enjoying the simple sensation.

Hermann makes some noise, like a sigh, but quieter. A gentle exhalation as his hand finally leaves Newt’s hair and forehead.

He hears the steady tap of Hermann’s cane moving away and he’s too tired to watch him go. But he is surprised when he hears the squeak of a chair being dragged. He cracks one eye open to see Hermann settling into a chair beside the couch with a notebook in his lap and a pen in hand.

He glances up once at Newt and makes a quiet noise of irritation.

“Oh, go to sleep, Newton.”

Newton stares at him for a long moment, studying this new or not new expression.

He shuts his eyes.

This is new.

Because, it isn’t concern written all over Hermann’s features. Concern is there too, a neighbor to the many emotions that play out too subtly for Newt to detect or understand, because Hermann has depths that Newt is only just beginning to understand. The guy has so much more going on than he has ever given the man credit for.

So …it’s not concern…

 _No_ …mostly…

It’s fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 38 whatever celsius is about 102 farenheight. Also wow this was long and um...Yeah it might have been a little hard to read since Newt was waaaay more...distractable? Not with it? Yeah well either way, trying to reflect his mental state= some weird writing.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter beta'd by thepsychoticchef

The scene continues to play over and over again every time Hermann closes his eyes.

_He stands facing a laptop in the dim and the blue, surrounded by a wreckage of death and obliteration. The aftermath of Otachi and its offspring._

_Newton stands beside him, edgy and nervous. Hermann can relate as his hands dance frenetically over the computers keyboard in a manner that Newton would probably deem ‘spastic.’ Their time is limited. Mako Mori, Raleigh Beckett, Chuck Hansen, and Marshall Pentacost are their last pilots. Gipsy Danger and Striker Eureka…their last Jaegers._

_He hates to admit it, but they need every last scrap they can get in order to finish this, and Newton’s plan to drift with Otachi’s baby is surprisingly solid._

_If detonating a bomb in the breach does not close it for good, then this is the end for everyone._

_This needs to work. It has to._

_As it happens, Hermann had decided at least ten minutes ago on_ his _chosen plan of action._

_Hermann types in some final codes, a few minor adjustments to Newton’s set up. It isn’t much, but it might help. Then he speaks,_

_“There’s only one way to be sure that you manage to do this…he says turning to face Newton while simultaneously removing his glasses,_   
  
_“We do it together.” He finds himself standing a little straighter before the other man who is slowly turning to face him._

_“I’ll go with you,” he adds, as if that needed clarification. Maybe it didn’t. Newton is staring at him in astonishment. Now he is getting almost nervous, like perhaps maybe this is wrong._

_“That’s what Jaeger pilots do, isn’t it?” he pauses, “Share the neural load…” he adds, biting his lip and shifting his weight._

_“You’re serious? You…you would do that for me?” Newton breaks off in an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty._

_“You would do that with me?” and Hermann would...Hermann_ will _. Because if connecting to the anteverse gives them a method for continued survival, than what else can he do? Not to mention it might possibly prolong the survival of one idiot biologist. Hermann has no interest in finding the man dead somewhere from a hemorrhage of the brain…no, he does not have an interest in that scenario_ at all. _So, he finds himself beginning to smirk in a rare display of something that feels almost cavalier._

_“Well, with worldwide destruction as a certain alternative…” he hesitates and his mouth transforms into an actual smile._   
  
_“Do I really have a choice?” and now Newton is unbelievably, excited. Their energies feeding off each other as their certainty of action gives them a courage neither have felt before._

_“But, say it with me my man,” Newton exclaims too loudly over the gusting wind blowing at his hair. He holds up a hand for some sort of literally equivalent of the oncoming neural handshake._

_“We are gonna_ own _this bad boy!” Newton says, his voice dropping to something quieter. Hermann stares at the offered hand and uncertainly poses his hand beside it, under it, and around it, because he is suddenly unsure of how to hold this man’s hand. Thank god the dark hides the red creeping into his cheeks as he blusters,_

_“By jove, we are going to own this thing for sure!” and manages to clasp Newton’s hand to give it a firm shake._

The naiveté of those final moments are overwhelming.

How could they have known?

They knew nothing of what they had brought on with their good intentions and the press of a button.  He knows what paves the road to hell, but nobody ever told him what paves the road to heaven, so he is left with no other alternative.

Hermann had sat in his chair next to the couch which contained a semi-sleeping Newton for probably eight hours. Newton slept for barely an hour or two at a time before jerking awake. Sometimes with a noise of distress, and once he startled so hard he nearly fell off the couch. Hermann had steadied him and said, ‘you’re fine, go back to sleep.’ Apparently that had been enough, because Newton did.

Sometime near twenty-three hundred hours, Newton sat up and said he needed to go to bed. Hermann had not objected and had watched in silence as the man exited the lab in a spectacular display of dysfunctional, uncoordinated walking.

Now, Hermann sits considering irrational thought and poorly conceived plans; he considers the square root of two. He considers a lack of time and pure motivation; he considers E=mc2. He considers affection and continued survival; He considers the inevitability of gravity and the unmapped boundaries where the known universe connects to others unknown.

No matter what his reasons were, the end result is the same.

Something is very wrong with Newton and has been since they drifted. Perhaps Hermann had only helped prolong the inevitable? Perhaps he had, in fact, enabled Newton to continue down his chosen path of self destruction.

He had been so, _so_ sure; so utterly, absurdly certain of his decision. It seems childish now, how brave they felt, how sure.

On the one hand it had been right, in that it had given them that final piece of information they needed to defeat the kaiju and destroy the breach. For now at least. The numbers do not lie and there will be another breach. It’s not a matter of ‘if’, it’s a matter of ‘when’.

Realistically, he knew that if they hadn’t drifted, everybody they knew would likely have been shredded by a force that wanted only blood. Somehow this knowledge is not comforting to him in the slightest.

It’s twisting him, it’s twisting _them_. The drift is blurring lines that used to be clear. Obfuscating what used to be obvious. He can’t even fully parse his own motives for his actions anymore because he can’t tell how much of his thoughts are being filtered through a Geiszlerian lens.

The real Newton is clearly spiraling. His energies and his health being pulled down a drain that Hermann cannot yet define.

Hermann thinks he knows the answers but he does not want to. He sits on the brink of knowledge and knowing and stares down at the abyss it will bring.

He does not want to know the answer.

The answer will either save Newton, or confirm a death sentence.

He does not want to know the answer. He does not want that knowledge since he already suspects where it will lead, and it is a path to hell for sure, and he _does not want it._

He sits and he thinks.

His cell phone is on his desk. He picks it up and dials Mako’s number.

It rings twice before he hears her voice filter through the speaker,

“Hello Hermann. Are we making a habit of late night calls?” There’s a hint of a smile in her voice.

“Is it even night where you are?” He asks, briefly distracted. She sighs and says,

“No,” the syllable drawn out with more than a little resignation,

“We’re travelling so much I feel like I will be permanently jet-lagged for life.”

“Well, how is all the press going?” Hermann asks, he hasn’t really kept up with all the coverage, although he has caught an interview here or there in the last few days.

“Everybody keeps asking me about my hair… and about Pentacost. Raleigh does most of the talking,” she says softly.

“I keep wanting to just burst out with something crazy in these interviews because I am so sick of their questions. I’ve been asked about you and Dr. Geiszler once or twice.”

“Really?” Hermann asks, the thought making him feel uncertain and possibly edgy.

“Mostly the real news shows ask that stuff. I say you guys are capable and provided valuable intel…and I’ve mentioned that you’re pretty cool,” she says the last part so casually, Hermann wonders if he is being teased.

“Well that’s…good, I suppose,” if Newton knew that Hermann had been called cool on television, he would probably have a fit…or a tantrum. He chuckles a little imagining it.

There is a pause.

“I think Raleigh is avoiding me on purpose. He doesn’t even fully understand what my problem is…or I don’t think he does. But, somehow he knows and so I only ever see him during the interviews. He doesn’t even talk to me or anything until we go on camera. I think he is trying to make me feel better…” she trails off

“That’s…surprisingly perceptive of him,” Hermann says and Mako makes a nonverbal sound of agreement.

“Are you happy about this?” Hermann asks and he can hear a quiet exhale through the speaker.

“I don’t know. I have difficulty being...with Raleigh. But this way…” she trails off again and he can picture her standing on the balcony staring at the empty Jaeger bay; the dim lights shining on her hair and her shoulders slumped under the weights have been personally applied and the ones that haven’t.

“I understand,” Hermann says.

“Thank you,” she almost whispers, her voice is so soft.

There is a long silence, but it is a comfortable one. Hermann sits for a moment and debates what he wants to say.

“There is something wrong with Newton. Something _very_ wrong.” He says leaning forward to press a hand to his forehead. She is silent, giving him room to speak.

“I think Newton knows something and he isn’t telling. If he doesn’t know then…”

 “Then you need to find out what the problem is,” she finishes and he sighs.

“What if I don’t like what I find?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“You will not be satisfied until you know…” he can perfectly picture her raising her shoulders in a tired shrug, “I wouldn’t be.”

He digs his fingers into his scalp as frustration rises up stark and unbidden. She is right, and he is afraid to know, but he needs answers. He needs the answers and he fears their ramifications, their implications; the answers and their aftershocks.

He says a brief goodbye to Mako and then sits with his head in his hands. Alone in the lab again.

Whatever this is, he knows in the very core of his being that it will take this most fragile sense of order and safety he has built up in these last few days…

It will take it and tear it to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated  
> Also lalalala ploooot. PLOT STARTS NEXT CHAPTEEER. Also I did my best with that dialogue from the film. I could not find a transcription of the scene and a few lines were hard to catch? Yeah.  
> I plan another mostly movie flashback next chapter as well because reasons so thats neat  
> (Aviyah I hope everything is clear to you as my reader who has not seen PacRim <3 )


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> corrected by the sister thepsychoticchef

_This is a dream. This isn’t real._

_He pressed a button and then he was sucked away from the wreckage and the rain. He was pulled into currents that were strange, and there was Hermann. There was Hermann. There. Was. Hermann._

_Memories everywhere. Hermann’s memories. Newt’s memories. They gather and mix and swirl like an ocean combining._

_They are combining, they are coalescing, but there is something else and it is young and it is strange, and it seeps into the currents. It seeps in and surrounds them and it is angry and it has knowledge. He digs into the thing and there’s no way to brace himself for the onslaught of connecting with a hivemind. He feels thoughts and sensations beat against his consciousness, fracturing and leaving debris as they pass, but he is determined. He is determined. He. Is. Determined and he has to find it. He has to find it. He_ has _to_ find _it._

_This is drifting, and there is Hermann. Somewhere to his left but is it his literal left or some sort of mental out of body equivalent where they exist only as energy because there are no physical forms here and they are hunting for information. They need information. They need information to survive._

_He has to find it and_

Oh god.

_It is dying._

_Hermann has no frame of reference, he has never experienced this before; the sudden sense of existential horror cannot be differentiated from the assault of sensory and mental input that the baby kaiju flings at them, because this is its nature and a thing cannot fight its nature. Hermann doesn’t know, he doesn’t realize, he doesn’t feel the slow cell death as the kaiju rages and roars at them. It is dying. It is dying._ It is dying.

_Tissue is dying and matter is decaying. Consciousness is fragmenting and no dying no kaiju do not die no dying no dying no dyingno_

_It feels pain and it feels fear, and kaiju do not feel pain, and they do not feel fear but it is dying and it feels pain and it feels fear. It is dying. It is dying._ It is dying.

Newt opens his eyes and gasps in a ragged breath. His lungs burn and his head hurts, and he touches his face and his fingers come away red. His nose is bleeding.

He struggles to hang on to the images of the dream that feels like might be more than a dream, but it is slipping away even as he grasps at it with herculean effort; it fractures and dissipates leaving him with nothing but a faint sense of horror and images of a world dipped in b l u  e.

Newt’s been wondering about the relative compos of his proverbial mentis because…well nothing seems to make a lot of sense, but he knows he did this on purpose. He did it to himself and…

…well…

He went back to his room at some point last night. Hermann didn’t stop him.

Oh Hermann…

Eventually this will all come out and, oh man, will he be _pissed,_ but that’s ok. He can still be a functional person while being angry at Newt, so there’s that.

Apparently he had managed to sleep at some point, given that he just had a dream, but he had a distinct recollection of shutting his eyes and jerking awake over and over again.

His eyes would shut and he would hear those thoughts and see fractured images of broken bodies. Arms ripped from shoulders. Heads bent at strange angles or crushed into something red and –oh god his stomach turned. He leaned over the bed to dry heave but there was nothing left.

He didn’t remember the last time he ate.

He doesn’t remember his dream.

There is a knock on his door and he stands up to open it and

W o a  h

Body c o m pen sa tes for l ow e r ed  b l o od pr e  ssure by se nd i n  g bloo d t o  hi s fee t.

Wow body    w ow.

He is leaning,

Against a wall.

After a minute the room slows its orbit enough that he can walk to the door.

He wishes his body had less of a flair for dramatics.

He opens the door to see…

She looks at him, and he looks at her, and he thinks that she must be a very unhappy person because he has never seen her smile, and she looks so upset as she stares at him.

“I couldn’t get you a rest day,” she says with eyes that don’t quite meet his. They linger on his still bloody nose and his shaking hands and his shirt that is the same one he wore yesterday.

“Sorry,” she says and her mouth twists. Newt finds that his head hurts too much to feel anything aside from tired. He shrugs at her and after a moment of brief, heavy eye contact, she turns and walks towards the medical bay. The clear assumption is that he should follow.

Why do people always expect him to follow?

Probably because he always does.

Which is strange because Newt is not a follower, he is a _leader_ thank you very much.

But now he is following Caitlin down the hall of the shatterdome. It’s apparently early in the morning or something because the halls are fairly empty. Is that normal?

He doesn’t know.

Behind him a door opens.

But that makes sense since, if this is when Caitlin starts her day, others might be just getting up too.

Their footsteps echo down the hallways and there’s a tapping sound from behind him.

He might be hallucinating sounds too. At this point it’s possible.

He glances at Caitlin to see if she is reacting to the sounds of doors opening and tapping.

Her eyes are far away and yeah, he knows that feeling.

Why does it matter if doors open and things tap? Maybe somebody is wearing funny shoes.

Tap shoes?

No…the likelihood that the Shatterdome contains a Fred Astaire is…very unlikely. He passes Tendo who is on his way to somewhere. Tendo glances at him and behind him with an odd expression.

He should talk to Tendo, he hasn’t really talked to him much lately.

They reach medical, and that’s good because he is getting really tired of these sounds that may or may not be real…and he could do without the weird looks.

Gia is there, looking tight lipped and leaning against a counter.

Also…somebody new?

He's sitting casually in a seat by the screens. He turns to look at them with clear, serious eyes. His gaze lingers on Newt before moving to Caitlin and when he speaks, it is a shockingly heavy Louisiana accent,

“He looks god damned awful”

Newt thought this was an accurate summation of how he felt.

After he had gone through the daily battery of scans with Gia, Newt sat in a room for awhile where they clearly thought he couldn’t hear them, or they didn’t care. Voices battled in short sharp bursts.

“You know they tell us to _do no harm_.”

“They also arrest people who disobey orders.”

“He is in no condition for this.”

“Agreed.”

“He hasn’t signed any papers though, so she’s left him with legal recourse after all this.” A third voice breaks in.

“If he isn’t a vegetable!” There’s some swearing in…is that French?

“He agreed to this, and he probably understands better than any of us what is being asked of him. I hate this too, but we have no choice. If it comes to it then keep him stable.”

The voices die down and scans are completed. Then he sits in the chair while the new guy(“Call me Gene”) checks his pulse, temperature and the other usual stuff. Newt tunes him out because he is tired, and this guy radiates such an intensity of concentration on his task that Newt is kind of unnerved.

Eventually he sits in his chair next to Caitlin’s. Caitlin helps him put on the Pons helmet and he tries not to think too hard about what’s coming next when she starts talking.

“So I think you know you’re drifting today right?”

He had kind of guessed that based on the new doctor, yeah.

He nods.

She nods.

“I have made some changes to the interface code and hardware. It’s untested, but ideally it should act as a safety buffer between you and the kaiju brain.”

He nods. That sounds pretty good.

His brain asks him in a British accent how the brain will interpret this buffer.

He has no answer.

Caitlin is talking again. She is making eye contact. Her mouth is a hard line.

“But…it’s _untested,_ so we have no way to know how this will go. I plan to connect you two for 5 minutes. Then we will disconnect and assess the results.”

His head hurts

“If the results are sub-optimal I am going to shut this project down.”

His mouth is dry but he manages to ask,

“Will they let you?”

That seems to be the wrong question. She shatters eye contact and her shoulders come forward.

“I hope so.”

.

.

.

He has no response and the room is silent. Gia is standing in the doorway again; she looks tense. Her hands are fists in the pockets of her lab coat.

Call-Me-Gene looks uncomfortable in his seat.

Caitlin has her hand on the switch and she looks at him and he can feel the switch to eye contact because she needs to see that he is ready, and he isn’t, but he nods.

“in 3,”

And before he can think,

“2,”

Before he can feel afraid,

“1,”

The switch is flipped and Newton feels his reality disintegrate around him as everything is dyed blue, or it is dying, or he is dying, as he is sucked down a hole into n oth ing.

No t hi ng.

N ew   t    f  e  e ls

N    o     t h   i   n      g

He opens his eyes once and Hermann is st a  nd i  ng the re and N ewt as k s if he i  s o k ay.

T   h e n  n  o t  h    i     n     g   a  t     a      l        l.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....yup...third drift commences.  
> Comments are always appreciated.  
> (Have I mentioned i got the spacing idea from the Out of the Ocean Risen Series...welp there it is.)  
> Also why yes that is Doc. Eugene Roe from Band of Brothers because I was angsting way too much about writing another OC.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter corrected by Thepsychoticchef :)

There were many things at which Hermann did not excel.

Sports, winning arguments with Newton, getting people to listen to him when he was right, protecting Newton from his own stupidity…the list was endless, he could now add spying to it.

He set his alarm to wake him up at 0500 hours. When it rings him awake, he gets up and opens his door a crack. It is enough that he can see down the hall to Newton’s door. He is just across the way, two doors down.

Hermann pulls up a chair and waits.

And waits,

And waits.

Time passes and Hermann is beginning to despair at his own methods until he sees Dr. Lightcap walk down the hall and stop at Newton’s door. There is something sad in her posture, curving her spine forward, forcing her head down.

She knocks and Newton opens the door. He looks like the human equivalent of a train wreck; he is sweaty, his hair is a mess, his glasses askew, and his nose is bleeding or has just stopped. It’s hard to tell from a distance. After a moment…they might be speaking, again, it is hard to tell, but something about the entire sight is like ice in his veins.

Then they start down the hall and Hermann watches. Newton, pale and sweaty, is as spectacularly uncoordinated as yesterday. Dr. Lightcap walks beside him in a manner that can only be described as subdued. He finds it odd to ascribe that to her since, in his brief experiences with her, she has not been a particularly effusive personality, but there is something about her manner that unnerves him.

After they walk a short distance down the hall, Hermann stands and swings his door open. He cringes a little at the shrieking of rusty hinges, but neither Newton or Lightcap pause to glance his way.

He walks a decent distance behind them and curses his cane for its tapping against the cement floor in a way that seems ear drum shattering in volume. He wonders what on earth Newton is doing to himself; clearly it’s breaking him down.

He considers good intentions and where they lead. He hopes Newton’s intentions were, in fact, good ones.

Hermann sees Tendo walking from the opposite direction. He is wearing one of his usual bowties and carrying a mug of coffee. Hermann can see clearly the question in his expression as he spots Newton and then Hermann behind him. his eyes flick back and forth between them. Hermann shakes his head and Tendo gives both of them an odd look before walking on.

He sighs and continues following Newton and Lightcap in their slow progress towards and unknown destination.

At one point, Newton actually attempts to look over his shoulder, but the attempt is malformed and Newton ends up stumbling and relying on Caitlin’s shoulder to maintain his balance. Hermann sidesteps into an adjacent hallway.

After a few moments, he peeks around the corner and sees Newton and Lightcap have continued onwards.

Suddenly, they are turning towards a door and Hermann’s sense of unease increases.

It’s the medical bay.

Newton does not even hesitate to step through the door. From where he stands he can hear voices talking. Muted by distance, it is unintelligible, but it sounds like casual greetings being exchanged; between Newton and the medical staff?

The door shuts and Hermann steps up to it. He peeks through the small glass window, too small to really see anything significant. Newton and Lightcap are talking to two doctors. A women in a headscarf and a man with hands in his pockets. He recognizes the women from his bi-annual check-ups. Dr. Siddiq is a lab tech. He doesn’t recognize the man, he must be new.

But why is Newton here? Newton, who would rather collapse in a full seizure rather than go and be examined? He insisted in no uncertain terms that Hermann should stay away. Why? Is it because of whatever he is doing here?

What is he doing here? And should Hermann respect his request to leave it alone?

He stood in front of the door and debated.

Where do bad intentions lead if there are no good intentions to be had?

What should he do? What should he _do?_

Outcomes are unclear. There is no guarantee that his intervening will lead to an optimal solution.

Sub-optimal is more likely.

He remembers the early days so long ago when they had simply communicated via email, barren of alarming physical presence or volume or tone. Simply text on screen. A sharing of information they both needed and wanted. The man had been intelligent and his thoughts were clear and brilliant.

In the flesh the man had been infuriating.

_“You would do that for me? You would do that with me?”_

He sighs and leans his head against the door.  
  
Why does he always do this? Or perhaps let this be done to him? Why does he allow Newton and his idiotic nature dig them both into a hole that might be too deep?

He hates this.

He _hates_ it.

“Hermann?”

He jerks away from the door and sees Tendo standing in front of him. He’s still holding that coffee and still looking perplexed. Tendo must see his eyes flick to the mug and he shrugs a little.

“I was gonna at least get this on my desk first, but what can I say? I’m a curious guy,” Tendo says and he stares at Hermann like he is expecting an explanation. Hermann stares back and Tendo breaks first.

“Ok, look, I know we haven’t talked much since Day Zero,” Tendo begins, and Hermann is distracted to realize the day has already been given a title.

“But, clearly I’ve been missing something, because you and Newt haven’t really been out and about much these last few days, and now I see Newton looking like a fucking mess and your…I don’t even know…trailing him?” Tendo rattles this off calmly and with a mild incredulity before taking a sip of his coffee and resuming his patient stare at Hermann.

Hermann sighs and takes a few steps down the hall, away from the door. Tendo follows him amiably and watches Hermann open and close his mouth several times in an attempt to explain.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Tendo asks. Hermann can only shake his head and glance at the closed door to the medical bay. The other man sees the look and gives him a friendly smack on the back.

“Don’t worry, you can resume your watchdog thing in 30 minutes, right?”

Hermann nods and allows himself to be spirited down the hall.

Only when they are both seated at a long table in the still mostly empty cafeteria with full trays, does Tendo ask.

“What’s going on with you and Newton?”

It’s forward and to the point and Tendo is really the only person aside from Newton who he has worked with in close proximity. Their relationship might be something like friends even. If only because Tendo seems completely unconcerned by any ire Hermann has ever displayed, and he does not needle Hermann for fun (unlike certain biologists). He managed to force Hermann into calling him by his first name within the first year they worked together.

Tendo had often been the one to soothe ruffled feathers and mediate when the two heads of the K science team were getting out of hand.

Newton likes him too, but probably for different reasons. Tendo is a likeable man by any standards.

And, at this very moment, he is sitting and facing Hermann with that calm expression as he fiddles with those rosary beads he wears.

Hermann sighs.

“I don’t know how much I can explain. I’ve made some promises to keep quiet.”

Tendo slowly leans forward, spears a piece of pancake, and takes a bite. His brow is furrowed and he squints at Hermann like he is assessing.

“If I made a few educated guesses, you could...tell me if I’m wrong?” He suggests slowly and Hermann’s mouth tightens as he nods.

Tendo spears another pancake.

“You and Newt drifted.”

Hermann says nothing, and in the silence, the pancake slides off Tendo’s fork with a quiet flat sound as it hits the plate.

“Well shit. Is that the problem?” Tendo asks as he scoops up his befallen pancake.

Hermann looks away for a moment.

“I’m not sure,”

“Is Newt…” he pauses, “Sick?”

“Yes” the answer digs into his throat.

“Why were you following him?”

“Because I think he is doing something that is making it worse. I think he is trying to keep it a secret from me. I think it might be damaging him. I don’t know.” He speaks quickly and without anger. His voice drops out at the end.

The look he is given in response is sympathetic, maybe even empathetic. There is an understanding of the complexity of the situation that might run deeper than Hermann’s own understanding.

“Herc’s seemed pretty stressed lately.” It sounds like a non-sequiter, but Hermann knows it isn’t.

“Lightcap is in his office practically every day, and the conversations are behind closed doors, but I hear they are intense.” Hermann raises his eyebrows in an unspoken question and Tendo gives him a crooked grin.

“I hear things from people, y’know? I hear there’s been shouting. Lightcap looks pretty pissed when she leaves.”

Hermann leans back and considers all of this, feeling a little too pinched and pressed by all this information and what it might mean. He misses feeling angry, because that was so much simpler. He misses Newton making him angry, because that was so much better than this.

Tendo is back to fiddling with the rosary beads and a few moments pass in tense silence.

“If you want to head back and…y’know…stalk until you get your answers…well…” Tendo says slowly, almost languidly. The pauses linger casually, but Hermann wonders if the man is actually nervous, considering an apocalypse barely made him sweat.

Hermann simply inclines his head and stands up. Before heading out the door, he turns once and sees Tendo still seated. A small figure in a large room, the lights glint off his dark hair and his posture reveals nothing, except the slightest hint of hunched shoulders.

Hermann walks quickly back to the medical bay, feeling that unease back in his shoulders, his stomach, his legs.

When he reaches the door he hears raised voices.

“Get out of the way!”

“I told you it was untested!”

“What are the brainwaves looking like?”

“I don’t know, look for yourself my hands are a little full at the moment!” three voices raised and none of them are Newton’s.

He stands there for a moment, but no...

He is done waiting.

He shoves the door open and walks past the main waiting area. The voices are down the hall and the door is ajar. He moves quickly and the sight in the room freezes him to the bone.

Newton is lying on a gurney wearing a pons helmet. Hermann sees all the wires hooking him up to displays and machines. There is a piece of kaiju brain floating in haunting yellow liquid, covered in electrodes, and hooked up to the displays as well.

He recognizes Lightcap flying between a wall of manual controls and Newton. The unfamiliar male doctor is checking Newton's pulse and hooking him up to an IV with steady hands. The female lab tech, whose name he can’t quite recall, stands tense and to the side.

Newton is so still.

Too still.

“You shouldn’t be in here!” shouts the lab tech.

Hermann ignores her and moves as quickly as he can to stand beside Newton. His nose is bleeding and his face is too pale.

When his eyes fly open, all of them are startled.

His gaze collides with Hermann’s looking wild and afraid.

For a moment the room is still and silent. The blaring of the monitors sounds far away. Newton reaches up towards Hermann with a messy, quivering hand.

“Are you ok?” the words are slurred, and before he can think of a response, Newton’s eyes roll back into his head and his whole body is shaking.

He cannot bear the neural load.

He is going to die.

The doctors are yelling and Caitlin Lightcap is fixing him with a piercing look.

Newton cannot bear the neural load and he is going to die.

He realizes he never took the time to write out a will. He should have done that years ago.

He hopes Mako will understand. She might understand better than anybody.

_“You would do that for me?”_

Apparently he would. He had done it once before and he is doing it again.

“Connect me to it.” he says to the room and they fall silent.

“He said he didn’t want _you_ involved,” the lab tech says with a frustration that seems misplaced.

“This could kill you too,” The new doctor says in heavy syllables.

“It’s untested. We don’t know what the effects of the new system will be,” Caitlin says softly over the monitors blaring alarms.

“Connect me _immediately_ ,” Hermann all but hisses. Caitlin meets his eyes for a moment more before a curt nod sends them flying into action. The new doctor rolls in a gurney and sets it next to Newton. Hermann gets on and the lab tech is there with a second helmet and a tight mouth.

"He made me promise to keep you out of this," she says quickly as she helped him attach the helmet.

"He had no right to ask that of you," Hermann tells her as the helmet snaps on with an ominous click.

They hook him up to the machines and Newton’s seizure has ended. Hermann dearly hopes he isn't too late. Caitlin has Newton on his side with a gentle hand behind his head.

Hermann looks at her.

“Brain waves are leveling out a little. His vitals are still there. Are you ready?” she asks

“Yes.”

She runs to her wall of manual controls and flicks a switch. Alarms begin blaring and Newton is shaking again.

As the doctors run to him, Hermann’s vision twists and bends and black rushes forward, squeezing all visible light into a tiny dot.

With that he is swept into nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated.
> 
> Also I have been aware for some time that this fic has been severely lacking some Tendo so I finally got him in a proper scene! With a befallen breakfast product...That's been in the works for quite some time you don't even know.
> 
> And I just have to flail a little because a big part of why I wanted to bring in Caitlin was because I wanted her to be there for the third drift because as you might recall in canon she did a similar thing to safe her BF from a seizure by connecting herself into it midway on an untested device and just...yeah...PARALLELS.


	23. All We Can Do Is Keep Breathing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrected by Thepsychoticchef:)

It's become the kind of day that people would always talk about. A historic day that causes people to lean in and ask in that friendly conspiratorial way, 'Where were you on Day Zero?'

Where was she?

She was floating in the ocean wondering how she was alive. She was pulling her drift partner out of the Pilot Eject Pod because she could not stand to see him lying there so still...so cold.

She was floating in the ocean sobbing as she hugged her partner because he was alive, and for the moment, all she could feel was happy.

It wasn't until later, when they sat alone on the helicopter, that it began to sink in. Later at the party, when she drank until she couldn't think, in the hopes that it would pass.

There is so much information in the drift that one barely has time to process it. It comes later...in dreams and introspection. Sometimes flashbacks, but not often.

Their first drift hadn't really been a full drift; it had been a test run where the currents dragged Mako into her own childhood memories, leaving her stranded until the drift had been shut down manually.

Their second and third drift had happened so close together that there had been no time for thought or consideration until hours later. There was a massive event happening as three kaiju came through the breach, and she was too busy thinking about Stacker Pentacost, and about dying before she turned 22. She was thinking about her parents and destroying the creatures that killed them because she was _so_ _angry_. She was thinking about Raleigh, but only because he was the one who finally got her into a Jaeger. There hadn't been the time, or space, to really sit down and parse what was new and not her own inside her mind.

It turns out that the pieces of Raleigh were somehow harder to take than Mako could have ever imagined. The pieces of his brother, Yancey being torn away mid-drift. The sensation of being ripped out the jaeger, of life leaving the body felt utterly and completely real despite being second hand. She could remember piloting Gipsey alone, back to shore before collapsing, like she had done it herself. She remembers the loss and dropping out of the Jaeger Program to help build the wall that would fail in it's purpose, and he knew it.

She could feel that grief like it was still fresh. Perhaps because Raleigh missed his brother with an ache that never really went away, but rather became a permanent impression on his thoughts and feelings.

He probably felt her sorrow just as acutely. Killing the kaiju felt like righting a wrong she had lived with her whole life, but it did not make the memories any easier.

Then she lost Stacker while they were piloting Gipsy. He had asked Mako to protect him, and he probably hadn't meant it literally since the kamikaze run had been his choice, but she had still failed to protect him.

Raleigh must have felt everything as Mako barely had time to exchange more than a few words with Stacker before he was gone.

( _You can always find me in the drift)  
(I love you, teacher_ )

Had it been enough? From where she sits it doesn't feel like it, and she knows Raleigh must have picked up a lot of it in the drift. He probably got even more during that ghost drift period where, without being physically and mechanically connected there was still such a strong sense of the other, it was impossible that it was purely imagined.

And he was always so perceptive.

She doesn't like it. She doesn't like feeling her own grief doubled with somebody elses. It feels like being punched in the chest every time she looks at him, or even thinks about him. Seeing him is definitely harder. At least when she's alone she can cry without shame.

But that's not even the whole problem, because she can see herself through Raleigh's eyes and it's disturbing.

He sees her as strong and a fighter; a worthy drift partner.

She's not.

She's never been strong enough...not like he sees her, and if she was such a good drift partner it would have been her ejecting him from Gipsy Danger and going down through the breach. The fact that he managed to survive does not mitigate the risk he took and the fact that it almost killed him.

Mako feels far too much. Most of it is guilt and sadness and it increases tenfold around him.

The perceptive bastard must know it too, because now it's like he's walking on eggshells with her. He's keeping his distance. He's being _gentle._

Damn him. She never asked for his kindness, it just makes her angry.

This is what she is thinking about as she hides in her closet.

Technically _their_ closet.  
  
The damned organizer for Spain set them up in a single room. Raleigh has been tiptoeing around her all day and she can't stand to see the way he looks at her anymore, so she is hiding in a closet.  
  
She will admit she's more on edge today than she usually is and she can't explain why. Not to Raleigh or to anyone else. Maybe she could to Hermann, but he isn't answering his phone.

Hermann isn't answering his phone.

It sounds stupid, but that man is hair trigger fast with his phone. He has picked it up on the first ring every single time she called and he hasn't answered the phone. She's called him three times over the last few hours and sent him two texts( _Are you ok?)(Hey call me_ )

She was uneasy before, but this strange long distance silence distills that anxiety into something immediate and distressing. She's never been an overly impulsive person but Raleigh probably was( _is),_ and maybe this whole 'gut feelings' thing is a little habit she's picked up from him. The fact is she can't shake it. She has a terrible feeling that something is wrong.

She can't begin to guess why but Hermann isn't answering his phone and she is worried and something is _wrong._

She dials again.

****

Everybody in the room pauses when the phone rang a second time. It was in Dr. Gottlieb's pocket, but after it rang on ominously for a minute and then it buzzed with a text, Dr. Siddiq had pulled the cell out of the unconscious man's pocket some fit of impatience and slammed it on the table.

She knew better than to answer it of course.

Now it's ringing again and Caitlin looks over at her colleagues. Roe was applying electrodes to Hermann's skull between the prongs of the Pons helmet with a steady hand. They should have done it first, but they had been in a hurry. Now they need to monitor brain wave activity and he stands there with an electrode hovering in the air over the helmet, his eyes bleak. Siddiq was furiously taking notes off the monitors, but her pen now sits still against the page, her mouth is tight. They both stare at her and she shakes her head.

Activity resumes but each ring is like another sting to their ears. A tinny condemnation of everything they are doing.

When it finally stops they all breathe a little easier and Caitlin turns back to the monitors. Heart rates and blood pressures are all normal. Newton's BP is a little low but its steady. Brain wave activity looks normal and soon they will have a readout for Dr. Gottlieb as well.

Newton's seizure stopped the moment they hooked up Dr. Gottlieb so she hopes all is well. The fact that she can only hope digs at her as the much as phone's endless ringing.

She can't disconnect them. She has a manual override and she could always just pull the power, but the shock to the whole nervous system could cause brain damage. A fate she would not wish on either man, although they may have brought it on themselves by agreeing to this insanity.

You don't get your brightest minds and plug them into a machine with an alien brain and untested software. That is not how this should be done, but those Pan Pacific assholes had said what they wanted and she had done her best.

She had made so many adjustments to the coding of the drift program for this, it only barely resembled the original drift program. The person(s) in the drift could disconnect themselves at will...in an ideal situation. She had explained this to Newton several times, but she was half certain at this point that he hadn't gotten a word of it. She hadn't possessed the presence of mind to tell Dr. Gottlieb before they hooked him up and she's been cursing herself for that ever since she flipped the switch.

Caitlin takes a moment to viciously bite at the nail of her left ring finger and she tastes blood. It's metallic and unpleasant, but it still takes a great force of will to put her hands in her pockets.

Now Dr. Gottlieb is getting calls from Mako Mori? Insistent calls and concerned text messages.

Who knew they were friends, but as time passes the ringing cell phone eats at her like a cancer.

When is rings a fourth time she decides she cannot bear to continue this, so she turns and answers the phone.

“Hello? Hermann?” the voice comes through startled, but she recognizes it from all the interviews.

“I'm sorry Ms. Mori, Hermann isn't available right now. This is Dr. Lightcap.”

There is a moment of silence before an almost inaudible,

“Oh.”

Now they both sit quietly for a moment and the word hangs in the air between them like a rope ready to choke them both.

“Where is he?” Ms. Mori asks, and there's the tightening of the rope around her neck as Caitlin forces herself to swallow and answer.

“He is in a drift with Dr. Newton Geiszler and a piece of a kaiju brain. He may be...gone for some time.” She definitely could have said that better...or at least in a gentler way.

There is another long silence broken only by the sound that might be a sob.

“Are they alright?” she asks and her voice cracks. Caitlin tries to speak the truth gently,

“They are stable for the time being. I can...give you any updates...” she trails off and the girl replies,

“Yes please do. Good day Dr. Lightcap,” and hangs up the phone. Caitlin stares at it and then at Dr. Siddiq and Dr. Roe. Both of them stare back. In the silence, Siddiq's pen slides out of her hand and hits the floor with a soft clatter. The sound shatters them from their stillness and they all move in tandem getting back to work.

****

Hercules Hansen hangs up the phone with an exhausted sigh. He had just finished a conversation with the Pan-Pacific Defense shouting orders at him. He did not get a say in his command decisions with his own personnel, and it would have pissed him off if he could feel anything other than bone tired.

He stared at the photo he had placed on his desk several days ago. It was a picture of Chuck from a few years back; he was smiling and petting Max. That dog always made him happier than anything. He's sitting in Herc's room at the moment. Herc goes and sits with hims a couple times a day, walks him and feeds him, before returning to his office. Eventually he plans to set up a nice corner for Max right here in the office, and protocols be damned.

He thinks Chuck would approve. He can't be sure, Chuck had been hard to predict right until the end.

Herc had the opportunity to say goodbye to his son, but it hadn't been enough. Words had failed them both in those moments when they stood before each other and tried to say the right things for once in their lives. It had been close, but he knows it hadn't been enough. At least he had called him son and he hoped Chuck had understood the rest. He said he 'always knew,' but what did that really mean in the end?

Then Herc had to endure sitting in the control room as Stacker and his son hatched a suicide mission.

The boy had put on such a brave show until the very end.

(' _My father always said if you have a shot... then you take it_ ')

He had shut his eyes like that could close out the sound of it. The final gasp before the radio cut out and they were obliterated in fire and water.

He tries not to over-analyze whether those final words were meant in respect or condemnation. His relationship with Chuck had always walked the fine line between the two. He hates to admit how little love had entered into it.

By the time it had, it had been too late for them both.

Now he wonders if it's too late for Dr. Geiszler. Caitlin had called with an update rather than bothering to ask permission before she allowed Dr. Gottlieb to hook himself into the drift.

God damn the people who forced him to make these orders, and damn Lightcap for having the gall to call him with updates rather than requests for orders, and damn those men if this gets them both killed.

He's sick of doing nothing while people die.

The phone rings and he picks it up.

“Marshall Hansen, Mako Mori has been calling Dr. Gottlieb's cell phone persistently for the last four hours. I've responded and explained the situation.” Caitlin tells him in quick clipped tones. He sighs and rubs at his forehead with his hand.

“Noted, thank you for the update.”

She hangs up without a word and he is left alone in his office with the photo of his dead son, smiling a rare smile for his dog and not the man behind the camera.

****

Mako stares at the phone in her hands as it blurs beneath a haze of salt water that streams down her cheeks.

She supposes Hermann found his answer and she wishes he hadn't. She wishes Newton had not agreed to whatever he had agreed to. It must be Newton who had led them to this, because Hermann was far too sensible to try such a thing. It would have been only under great duress that he agreed to this. The situation must have been very bad. She wishes she was there, or anywhere but here. She wishes she could help them in some way.

She wishes for a lot of things, and when that gets her nowhere she throws her phone against the wall and buries her face in her hands.

At the rate Mako is going, she will probably die alone one day. Either very soon or years from now, she will die all alone, because all the people she cares about are dead or because she can't bear the caring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments are appreciated :)
> 
> I am going to continue using song lyrics to title things because it makes me feel hip. This chapter's title is from Keep Breathing by Ingrid Michaelson
> 
> So AN INTERLUDE. This will probably happen at least once or twice more because I love all the PacRim characters and I wanted to waffle about them. Also shit is happening outside the drift so...want to talk about Mako feelings? or Chuck Hansen? God they make me cry


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrected by Thepsychoticchef!
> 
> Trigger warning for references to physical abuse. (If you want to skip that paragraph it starts with "From downstairs he can hear her shouting" and end with "bad words he should never say." You can just skip that whole paragraph if you like.

Newt opens his eyes.

Where is he? What day is it? God, he must have gotten smashed last night. The familiar ceiling of his apartment a few streets away from MIT stares down at him. He stares back.

The sun paints the ceiling a searing, bright yellow.

He has seen this sight a million times on a million mornings, but today it seems odd.

Whatever, he needs some breakfast.

He feels like there is somebody he needs to talk to. God, who was it again? Blake perhaps? The guy taught in lecture hall 302 which neighbored his second home, room 301.

He had been going on _and on_ about the latest results of his botanical study on plant cells. Newt had nothing against the guy, or his plant cells, but plant cells couldn't get up and tear something in half like a...like a shark. He almost thought of something else, but what was it?

The floor vibrates a little underfoot and he wonders if that was the shortest, tiniest earthquake to ever hit anywhere on Earth.

Whatever, he was getting breakfast. He opens the door to his fridge and enjoys the blast of cool air. Today feels far too hot for Newt. It feels like the ozone is on fire, like space is trying to cook them up and serve them on a platter. It's way too hot to be January...why does he think it's January? Obviously it's August.

The fridge is still blowing its frigid air all over him and that's not conducive to a low energy bill. He should grab something and shut the door, but what does he want to eat.

His eyes land on a jar of pickles and he feels abruptly nauseous.

Who is it that he needs to talk to? He has the sense that he _needs_ to talk to somebody. He tries to grab at a face or a name but they both dance just out of reach.

He decides to give up on the fridge and grabs a microwavable macaroni and cheese from the freezer. He has like 5 or 6 boxes in there at a time, because when Newt is being realistic, his culinary skills do leave something to be desired. If only because Newt has never had the patience or interest to do better.

The macaroni goes in the trusty microwave which will deliver the food to him, hot and ready, in 5 minutes.

If only more things in life worked that way.

He heads out of the kitchen because he should start getting dressed for the day. He opens the door in front of him and shuts it behind-

Wait...

Where is he again?

His childhood posters of Godzilla, Mothra, and yes, even Reptar, are all in their usual places in the room. Oh right, he is heading to the closet.

Mom is in one of her bad moods again and dad is doing his best to handle it.

From downstairs he can hear her shouting, and he doesn't even get why she's shouting, but he is heading for the closet because he will sit in it until she is done. The dark enclosed space is a little alarming, but after the time mom stormed up the stairs and slapped him across the face, he has decided the closet is best. He kneels down and crawls into the closet, pressing himself against the low shelf and his shoes. She is still shouting and he could make out the words if he tried, but he doesn't want to try. The words make him cry and he doesn't even understand all of them. Of course, he knows some of them are bad words he should never say.

Time passes and he shuts his eyes. It provides little escape from the dark and the walls pressing and pressuring him from all sides. Eventually Mom starts talking quieter and he opens the door and crawls out...

But wait...where is he? On his hands and knees because he spilled cereal everywhere. He's a full grown adult, he is definitely too old to be spilling cheerios everywhere like he did when he was two. The news is still going and he should be watching it, but he just stepped in a puddle of soggy cheerios and is determined to clean up the mess he made.

The news is still going and the announcers voice filters from his shitty little tv.

“-And what appears to be a massive event. These beings are being called . . and they appear to be coming from the ocean? They are wreaking absolute havoc as you can see.” He wants to look up, because he did look up before, but something keeps his head down and focused on the task of sopping up milk with a wad of paper towels. What did they say it was?

He really needs to talk to somebody and his hands are shaking. That's weird, why are his hands shaking? His heart pounds and he swears he can hear something. It's like people are shouting from a block away, it's so distant, but it's there.

There's a name he should remember. A person.

He feels like there's a piece missing, something formerly present now absent. It's intangible and unnamed, but if he focuses on it he almost taste something acute and lonely.

Eventually he gets fed up with the cheerios and the news has gone to a commercial. He stands up and walks through the door into the living room.

He is engulfed by a wall of blue that is wailing in his ears. Incoherent shrieks tearing at him, pulling at him. Suddenly, the world jerks around him like a reset button.

Wait...where is he again?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the drift is weird.  
> This idea is the reason why I've been citing the From Out of the Ocean risen series as inspiration. I read it and went OMG the drift can be like Inception! And I love Inception. Also the Matrix. I basically took that premise and ran with it until I fell down and this is what happened.  
> Also just to clarify according to the PacRim wiki the events of the film take place in January 2025, the first Kaiju attack happened in August of 2014(I think it was 2014)...thats what the confusion about the month was.  
> Comments are very nice if your in the mood to make one XD


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrected by Thepsychoticchef

Hermann wakes up and finds his head resting on a physics textbook.

Immediately he is frustrated with himself for falling asleep. He also resigns himself to the fact that the human body requires regular rest, and he had been reading this book, the way one might read a gripping novel, for the last 8 hours. Sleep was bound to follow in the course of the day.

Now his head _hurts_. Why should sleeping on a textbook cause him such a headache? He probably twisted something out of joint and he sighs down at the pages of neatly ordered equations and text.

Its all so fascinating, he wishes he could open his mind and simply download all this information. He is so hungry for it.

Well he was hungry, now his head hurts, and he feels like he should go lie down.

It feels like an unusual headache.

No matter, he thinks as he shuts the book and grips the edge of the desk to shove his himself away from it. He pauses finding his eyes drawn to the sight of his knuckles white and taught on the edge of the desk.

It reminds him of something, but he can't quite understand what.

There is something he meant to do. Something he needs to do. He should be doing it now.

_What is it?_

Did he have an assignment he had forgotten?

He pushes away from the desk and stands up. Something is off, he thinks as walks to his bed. He feels like he ought to be holding something. Leaning on something.

He sits and stares at his knees. His head aches in a way that is both distant and alarmingly present. His eye twitches.

What was he supposed to be doing?

He feels like he shouldn't be here. It's unsettling. Why shouldn't he be here? This is his room.

There is this pressure... Like some force around his mind. He has a strange errant thought about force fields.

He reaches for a cane, but there is no cane. Why would he reach for that?

Something is pressuring him and walling him in. Something that is not physical. Something _mental._

He can't quite put a finger on what this is and a part of him thinks he should get up and get a glass of water. This is far too fanciful. He probably needs more sleep. How banal.

Outside of this 'wall' he feels, or maybe he _imagines_ the feeling... Just beyond there is the vaguest sense of something utterly horrific. Something unexplainable and uninterpretable, something that cannot be quantified or measured.

What is this? What does this mean?

_'You would do that for me?'_

The words drift up and he cannot understand the torrent that follows. It's blue and violent and overwhelms all sensation. There is fear and there is deep attachment that doesn't make sense at all. The absence of this...He only knows that he lacks the presence of something, or someone, and it feels like walking with a crippled limb, like a leg severed.

He wonders if he stayed up so late that, despite the few hours sleep, he is beginning to hallucinate. He should shut his eyes and not think about the strange ache in his leg and his back that feels miles and miles away. He would go to sleep and not think about this pressure. This mental wall.

A wall.

He goes utterly still, and for a moment it feels like he can't breathe.

Is the wall protecting him or trapping him? He can't quite tell.  
He decides he should get up and fetch a glass of water from the kitchen.

But no, he needs to focus. What is this? The edgeless mental block that stands monolithic around his mind. His head throbs and he...he did something. He feels like he did something, or agreed to something. He needs to remember what it is because it feels so important.

He distantly remembers another wall that was built to keep the...

The door beckons him. He should get a glass of water but he doesn't want to move from this spot. He wants to attack this problem like a thorny equation that must be assessed, analyzed, and answered.

He could just be very tired. His mind readily offers up the excuse but he wants to shove that aside for some reason.

Why is he being so stubborn?

His throat is dry. He should get a glass of water and not think about the wall.

The real wall that was built to keep

out

…

He strains for it, and as he reaches desperately for the rest of that sentence, he is once again plunged into azure depths. There is no loss or attachment. There is only screaming and destruction. They are everywhere and they sense him and they want to destroy him even as one of them is dying. They will find him, they will hunt him, they will kill him.

Oh god.

He had collapsed against the bed and the door is beckoning again.

Without even thinking, he stands up and leaves the room.

Disoriented, he enters the Kwoon room to practice his staff fighting.

Wait a second.

Confusion reigns and something is wrong, because he did something and there was a person and a thing he can't seem to think about and he feels the need to leave, but he is so confused.

He is grabbing a staff and stepping towards a sand bag, because that's what he came here to do, even though the whole scene feels twisted ever so slightly on its axis.

He attacks the punching bag savagely and feels satisfaction at the sound of his blows landing. He is resting too much weight on his left leg. Why is that?

What is it that he needs to remember so badly?

_Newton_

Who is Newton?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the drift is pretty weird....we're back to the slow burn model. Hermann's a little more with it though, what a precious bae. They just need to get their shit together dude.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter corrected by Thepsychoticchef

Newt sits up and feels....puzzled.

The need to move is overwhelming, so he stands up and paces his room. The old Godzilla posters are now squeezed between band posters, and his suitcase is lying on the bed ready to be packed. MIT is waiting and he doesn't think they can handle all the Geiszler he is about to unleash on them.

But he feels this need to move, like a thought he has forgotten or like some faded rote habit.

He needs to _move_ because he wanted something, or he was going somewhere.

It's hard to say, but in a flurry of motion he starts throwing things in the suitcase because its time to _go._

He stands at the door with a poorly packed suitcase and heads through to get to...

...What is he doing again?

He is moving.

He is finding.

Where is he going?

***

Hermann stares at the speckled ceiling of the doctor's office. He _hates_ physical therapy. A minor skeletal deformity left him walking strange as a child. Crying a lot and so on. His right femur was shorter than the left and the patella was misaligned. His parents did not realize the problem until he was 3 or 4 and still struggling to walk without crying.

By then there was already some scarring on the bones where the patella wasn't rubbing against cartilage like it was designed to do. He had been trying to compensate for this since he could understand how, but the damage was done and muscles had malformed.

So he is sitting in the room waiting to begin physical therapy,  because thats all doctors could offer for a patient who is beyond fixing.

Walking with a limp creates compensatory problems, like pain in his hip and his back.

He so hates physical therapy...

But there was something else he was thinking about, wasn't there?

Something sitting insidiously at the corners of his mind. Because something is definitely wrong and he doesn't remember how he got here.

He's been trying to remember.

Every time he tries to remember, it feels like grasping at a glass wall. A wall of ice and glass that is so cold and so sheer he can't get a grip on it. 

Glass can be shattered, and maybe it should be, because he needs to remember why he's here and what he was trying so desperately hard to do.

What was it that he was looking for?

There was that word again,   pressing against his mind but eluding him.

If he shuts his eyes, he can imagine something giant and the destruction of cities. A laboratory covered in a mathematical scrawl and tattoos of something wild and alien, but he can't connect all these disparate images or guess at their meaning.

So the fact is...Hermann needs a plan.

He is going to skip physical therapy, because he does not have time to suffer what will be mostly pointless beyond alleviating a fractional amount of pain. That's meaningless to him.

He stands up from his chair and briefly wonders at that pain; He doesn't feel any. Only a distant far removed ache.

Didn't he use a cane?

There is a phrase repeating on a loop in his mind. Some mental detritus that managed to float to the surface and is now insistently replaying over and over again.

“ _You would do that for me?”_ What would he do? And for whom?  _Why is this so important?_

Remember, remember, but it's not November what does he need to remember?

...A face...

A face with wild eyes and disheveled hair. There are cracked glasses and a stained shirt. Shaking hands and a voice that sounds like constantly gasping for air.

Hermann stands in the doctor's office feeling it begin to melt around him.

_Dr. Newton Geiszler._

_Where is Newton Geiszler?_

***

So Newton is so lost. He knows this is Pine St, but is it really? His surroundings look exactly like he remembers, but something is off and he's starting to feel afraid about something he can't explain or define. A nameless, wordless dread because something isn't right and there is somebody he needs to talk to and something really important happened, but what was it?

He strains to recall as he walks down the empty street beneath a cloudy gray sky.

Something monumental happened. Happened to _him_. Something he should remember and if he could just _remember something._  This is so important he _knows_ it is...

…

…

A word drifts to to the surface and it makes his heart pound as the ground shifts underfoot.

…

…

_Kaiju_

…

Oh

…

Oh _fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I'm getting employment finally(on my way to two part time jobs I hope) and also I'm producing a film...yeaaaah if anybody wants to hear about the kickstarter and they haven't already, message me or something because I am short of my goal with less than a week left.
> 
> But as for this chapter...bbs are getting there, slowly but surely, and I have a few ideas for shit I want to do...oooh the poor baes (I should just mention here I dislike writing and/or reading extreme tragedy....y'all should know that ok?)
> 
> And fyi for July and August updates may happen at a slower pace because the movie will be happening plus the two jobs. I know this chapter was way short but I really wanted to get something out for you guys!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with corrections by Thepsychoticchef  
> (and pssssst if you want to make her really happy go to thepsychoticchef.tumblr.com and tell her what a great job she is doing. Tell her that this would be borderline unreadable without her grammatical assistance) 
> 
> Also be warned the Newton section is heavy on the panic due to some perilous circumstances.

How could he have forgotten? It had been like living through hell and purgatory pressed into one frustrating experience. The man who had been his partner in research...Newton Geiszler.

How could he have forgotten Dr. Newton Geiszler?

He is walking through streets that are wet from a recent rain and the sun is hidden behind a melancholy gray sky. He fills his lungs for the thousandth time and lets out a booming call,

“ _Newton!”_ Hermann knows he needs to find the man. It is extremely, vitally, important that he finds Newton.

If only he could recall why?

He remembers more and more as he thinks about Newton;

The shouting and the companionable silences, those moments where it was all science and they spurred each other on towards greater enlightenment, an event that he cannot remember that happened to Newton, and possibly to himself.

He can sense the borders of his memories and his prods and chips at their edges, praying that they will eventually crumble away and reveal facts that could illuminate the present situation but there are no facts and no information that is pertinent to his present situation,

And yet...

The more he remembers the more his chest aches with something sad and sickening.

He recalls the man shaking with bloodshot eyes. He remembers the week when he had been ill with a flu, and every few hours Newton brought him steaming mugs of green tea with honey and lemon. He remembers the days when the words they threw around like a tennis match turned hard edged and vicious. They would cut each other deep and never speak of it again. He remembers seeing him crumbled and bleeding on the floor.

He recalls finding a recording after Newton went to Hong Kong for reasons he _can't_ recall. A recording where he flippantly blamed a suicidal experiment _on_ Hermann.

He remembers throwing his chalk to the ground and crumpling at his desk, face in his hands. Minutes passed before a hand rested gently on his shoulder.

He remembers feeling safe for the first time in years and a rough one armed embrace when he had been _so_ happy.

He remembers the happiness dying quickly, and the reasons are muddy and unclear, but things turned sour, and he remembers Newton showing up to the lab deteriorating more with each day.

He remembers Newton seizing on the floor, on a gurney. Body spasming uncontrollably.

He fills his lungs again and calls the mans name. The name tastes like desperation on his tongue and sounds like it in his ears.

He takes another deep breath, recalling the thick glasses hiding those eyes that were startling and startled in every way, ' _You would do that for me?'_

He recalls clasped hands that were tight and full of hope.

He calls again,

“ _Newton!_ ”

and again,

“ _Newton, where are you?!”_

and again,

“ _Newton, answer me please!_ ” his voice shatters on that final word as his plea rings out silently into the empty air.

He does not know where he is or how he got here. This is alarming on its own.

But coupled with the man missing, possibly dead...

Moisture pricks at the corner of his eyes. He immediately wipes it away with a mutter of ,

“What nonsense,”

He squares his shoulders and keeps walking. He calls again, his voice sounding closer to strong.

There is still no response and it breaks him.

Hermann has to stop and lean against a wall. Has to cover his face with his hands.

His shoulders shake and this time there is no hand to comfort him.

The name comes again, but this time as a whispered plea,

“ _Newton_.”

 

***

 

Shit, shit, _shit._ Newt is running and he needs to run faster.

He stumbles and falls hard and fast. Hands barely stop his forward momentum and he skids on the asphalt. Loose gravel bites holes in his palms and he doesn’t have time to think on the strangeness of the pain that feels immediate and far away.

He pushes himself to his feet with stinging palms and keeps running because he can feel the earth jittering underfoot.

The ground quakes and shakes with the heavy footsteps of something vast and unthinkable and absolutely unbelievable.

It's the kaiju.

The more he thinks about them, the more he feels he knows them (' _Keep running Newt')_

Like maybe he spent hours studying them and obsessing over them. _('Run faster')_

When he thinks about the kaiju, he thinks that maybe the nonsensical bursts and swirls of color on his skin make sense.

If he thinks very hard he can almost imagine a lab.

A roar rips through the air and collides with Newt. It pounds his ear drums and knocks him to the ground a second time. His heart pounds and he shoves the familiarity aside and replaces it with panic.

His gasps for air and pushes himself up again.

Everything, from the gray sky to the wet empty streets he can't quite recall, seems to press against him as he pounds one foot, and then the other, against the pavement.

He is not a great runner. His chest is already aching and his legs are heavy.

But he needs to run.

Run _away_ from the thing trying to kill you, Newt.

Run _away._

He feels confident in this decision even though he can't recall what builds the foundation for it. But it seems like a solid move considering his current levels of adrenaline and the probable size of this creature (based on how much the ground moves with its every step).

Where did it come from? He feels he ought to know this too and he vaguely recalls something marine related, but he needs to focus on the running because its getting louder behind him.

Where should he go?

This is the question plaguing him at the moment, because this creature is vast and everything about is sharp and deadly. It's like this creature was evolved to cut and kill things that are soft and breakable... like humans.

Oh _god,_ he should _not_ be thinking about this right now.

Keep running.

He is slowing down and the kaiju is coming for him.  _Fuck._

He should hate it. He should hate this thing that is going to bring about his end, but he can't find the feeling in himself. He is just so curious about it and what it looks like and where it came from. He feels like he might have loved them so much, almost as much as something else or...

Keep running Newt, never stop running.

Newt once knew a little girl who had to run. Run away and for her life. That little girl had serious eyes and survived hell when she was ten.

Newt does not remember this little girls name, but he remembers those old eyes and he thinks he can make it out too. Even if his eyes age from the experience, he can make it out of this because Newton Geiszler is a rockstar who can make it out of any situation that he was stupid enough to get into.

He can. He _can,_ yes that's right.

Fuck.

Keep running, keep running. Move one leg and then the other. Is it gett ing closer?

As much as he wants to know about the kaiju, he knows that being up close with one is 99.9% a bad idea. Anything that big will probably view Newt as nothing other than food or possibly a chew toy.

Or maybe it could be worse than that...

Maybe it could reach into his mind and possibly break it

Wait what?

He stumbles and falls _again,_ and this time the thing is too close and he so _tired._

He is crawling, hands and knees desperation, trying to find something to hide behind.

Newt is not a stander. He does not dramatically plant his feet and make that stand. There are others who do that. Some are annoyingly good looking and stereotypically cool, and others do it less obviously and maybe with a slight hunching in the shoulders and weight resting heavy on one leg, but its just as dramatic and Newt is not like those people so he crawls.

It's coming for him. It's coming for him. _Shit._

The kaiju is coming for him and Newt doesn't want to die.

He's made decisions that might lead to his death, but at his core Newt wants to continue his rockstar existence, even when that scares the shit out him and he doesn't want to die here being eaten alive by a kaiju that's not how he wants to end and a scream tears from his lungs panicked and shrill.

_Newt does not want to die._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH SO THINGS ARE INTENSE. SO INTENSE.  
> I will continue to apologize for delays in updating until my life calms down in September :/  
> But trust I have not forgotten about this I do intend to finish it and thank you so much for continuing to read and enjoy it^_^


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrected by my sister Thepsychoticchef ^_^

Hermann hears the echoes like distant thunder filtered through static. The booms repeating far away and pounding through the silence.

He has been walking through a space that can only be described as empty. Empty of life, sound, and light. The roads tapered off at some point without his noticing, and now in the distance he can almost make out far away peaks...or are they the points of sky scrapers?

Slowly they are revealing themselves, like they're being pulled from a fog.

It reminds him of where he had been and he wonders why he doesn't feel tired or hungry...or thirsty for that matter.

The place he is heading towards has some sort of ominous echoing thunder and every sensible instinct tells Hermann to turn around and go back the way he came, but...Hermann had just walked a very long way, and the place he been before was an endless series of silent, empty roads under of dripping gray sky. He tried to take the disturbing sounds as a sign of improvement.

What kind of improvement? Hermann could not say.

He was getting the feeling that when he finally found Newton he would need to give the man a resounding smack across the face, because whatever situation they were in seemed to be Newton's fault. He still didn't remember the specifics, but one of them had a history of making rash decisions and one of them didn't.

It made his chest hurt to think too much about Newton, so he focused on the walking and passed the time by reciting pi or rattling off various equations.

Now he hears the crashing thunder and heads towards it. He hopes this isn't the worst mistake he's ever made... Surely this _can't_ be the worst.

It's a strange form of optimism that suits him in that moment as the banging gets louder. As he gets closer, the ground begins to shiver underfoot.

Finally, the fog has almost completed receded and he sees wet gray city streets like the ones he left behind. For a moment he wants to sigh and crumple to the ground in defeat. Whatever strange hell he's wandered into... it's clearly never-ending.

Then, far away, he hears a cry. A long, helpless shout. In the distance he can see a small figure running.

The thunder is louder now. Loud enough to split his ear drums and nearly throw him off his feet.

A mountain of a foot comes crashing to the ground a few mere feet from the figure. It is black and scaly and yet somehow appears insubstantial. Like a plume of smoke made solid.

Another shout rings out and from where he stands he can hear it. “ _Oh fuck!”_ The words sound as familiar as his own heartbeat and he is not thinking now, he is running _towards_ the monster and towards Newton.

His feet pound against the wet pavement and that... _thing..._ brings down another crushing foot.

Newton stumbles and falls to the ground. He is crawling, _gutte gott,_ and the monster is raising its other foot and he isn't moving fast enough.

Hermann propels himself forward, through sheer force of will he manages to run faster.

That foot is coming down and Newton flinches, squeezing his eyes shut.

Hermann lunges forward and manages to grab his arm. With a great effort, he tears the man sideways and as that battering ram of a limb comes down inches from them. It's hard to even think amongst the crashing sounds around them, but Hermann drags Newton to his feet and keeps one hand tightly wrapped around the other man's arms so that when he sets off running he drags the other man behind him. The creature lets out a roar that is deafening.

They keep running and Hermann is not tired. He hopes Newton isn't. The adrenaline courses through him, harsh and lively. His hand remains clamped on Newton's arm and the warmth of skin beneath his fingers is a strange comfort as they continue their endless sprint.

A few minutes of silent, breathless running pass. The noise behind them slowly fades to a dull echo. Finally it is a muted, distant version of what had earlier been so vibrant and terrifying.

So, Hermann stops running. Newton stumbles to a stop behind him and for a moment there is no sound except their ragged breathing. They both stand, silent bent forward, hands on knees as they catch their breath. Of course, when one of them finally speaks, it is Newton. He straightens and brushes something off of his arm before looking at Hermann.

“Now...” Newton pauses in what Hermann guesses is an attempt at casual conversation. He can only imagine what the next sentence will be and he braces himself for something deeply infuriating.

“Who are you?”

There is a pause as the words approach him. The preparation and ready to access fury leave him in an instant as the question crashes into him like a fist through a glass window. The hole it leaves is precise, but there are spidery cracks branching out. There are shards and sharp edges that could make a man bleed.

He does not remember Hermann.

Hermann stares at Newton for a few long seconds as several facts occur to him in painful simultaneity:

The thing that they did, the thing he cannot recall. It is _damaging Newton._ It is hurting him, hurting _them._ Hermann can't remember things he should and in that moment...

He remembers a crack opening in time and space at the bottom of the ocean where monsters crawled out and humanity threw everything they could at this race that was bent on their annihilation.

He remembers the moment, the exact moment, when all the numbers alligned to show him the precise day in which the human race would end...because further survival would become untenable.

He remembers the kaiju and their destructive force and he still knows he hasn't remembered everything as he stares at this man, this damnable man who he has been desperately trying to find,

and Newton _does not remember him._

Newton is staring at him and he cannot bear the other mans gaze. He _cannot take it._

He turns away from Newton and walks several paces feeling the old knowledge crashing through him, mixing with the new, and it's enough to break him. Enough to cut him in half.

Hermann stops walking, and takes a deep breath. The rage, the fear, the pain, the _endless_ fountains of panic. He let's them all fill his lungs like he's drowning in them.

Then he hunches over, bent at the waist, and _screams._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been ages since I updated and I'm sorry its so short. WE START FILMING MY MOVIE ON MONDAY AND MOVIES ARE HARD TO MAKE. It's going to be sporadic like this until September, I apologize.
> 
> So another quick aside. I recently added something to the tags because it occurred to me, I may not have made this clear. I labelled this fic as slash because Hermann and Newt are definitely beyond friends. They have an attachment way too strong to be *just* friends. But I do not write fics where people bang. I hope nobody reads this as queerbaiting I do not like to read or write about ANY kind of sex. :/ Not sure if I should just write asexual relationship in the tags because things will not progress very far in this fic in terms of romantic physicality. I'm sorry if I've mislead any readers I hope you all still want to stick around and enjoy this fic. If you think I should maybe tag it as asexial pairing let me know I guess? I do not want to tag it improperly and create expectations that I will not meet.
> 
> In other news....hahahah I don't update for like a month and whats the update? a page and a half of SADNESS. Sorry about that.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrected by Thepsychoticchef!

 

This guy.... _holy_ _shit_...

This guy who _literally_ grabbed him from the jaws of death like some sort of gangly Superman. This guy whose hands felt weirdly familiar as those bony fingers gripped his wrist and dragged him through these nameless city streets. This guy who somehow looked like an old man and yet deeply vibrantly alive. It was the eyes that gave him that appearance of age...they made him wise.

Newt _tried_ to introduce himself to this guy in some way that was casual and suave, maybe 'Who are you?' was too abrupt or something? Because how do you talk to the guy who just saved your life? Who knows the answer to this? Certainly not Newton fucking Geiszler, who stared helplessly as the guy staggered like he had been shot. Newt watched him walk away and start, _oh my god,_ screaming his fucking lungs out like he was going to die.

And then what did Newton fucking Geiszler do? Did he display some kind of humanity or understanding? Maybe kneel down and look the guy in the eye and say, 'hey, are you ok?'

Okay, maybe that belongs in another movie or another life. One with cheesier music and less science.

So instead of the heartfelt approach, Newt just _stares,_ and fuck it's hard to watch, but Newt can't look away.

After what seems an age the screaming stops and the guy puts a hand out to rest against the wall of the alley they're in. That hand looks out of place against the dirty, wet, brick. It looks like it belongs...resting against a chalkboard.

The guy uses that well placed hand to steady a boneless slide to the ground. He does not look at Newt. Once he's fully on the ground he brings his knees to his chest and covers his face with his hands.

Newt is still standing there and staring...like...well...like an idiot. He has no response to this situation. No pithy words, or witty replies. The guy's shoulders may or may not be shaking. Newt decides not to examine this behavior as if that might give the guy more privacy. Instead he walks to the wall and slides down beside the guy. They sit together in a few moments of silence that feel bizarrely comfortable.

“So...I'm guessing you've had a hard day.” Newt says in an attempt to start some sort of conversation. He's rewarded with a short, sharp bark of laughter that's over as soon as it begins. The guy lifts his head from his hands and looks away from Newt down the alley way. Newt sits quietly as the guy takes a deep shaky breath.

Newt's trying to be...nice, or something. _Something._ He feels very out of depth and a little impatient as he stares at the guy who does not move or attempt to speak for several minutes.

“If I ask you your name, are you going to freak out on me again?” Newt asks in a manner that is totally tactful and sensitive. The guy sighs and his shoulders seem to deflate. He takes a moment to rub at his eyes before turning to Newt.

“My name is Dr. Hermann Gottlieb," he says softly, "You may call me Hermann.”  The British accent is kind of unexpected, but also sort of suits him. The name is ridiculous, so is the manner in which it is delivered. He says it so formally, but the effect is ruined by his voice which sounds like it's been rubbed with sandpaper.

Newt stares at him for a moment and nods.

“Cool, dude,” he mumbles softly as he turns away. He continues to surreptitiously glance back at Hermann, just to check if his emotional state is about to take any more sudden shifts. There is more silence since apparently Hermann is not much of a talker and Newt can't stand the silence.

“So are you...um...okay?”

Hermann's response is something like a laugh but it's short and faded.

“Newton, do you understand what's happening right now?”

Ok...so he's guessing he doesn't have to ask if Hermann knows who _he_ is... The question is....well...

“Um...” He drags the word out like taffy and lets it hang in the air between them for a moment as he fumbles for an answer.

“We just got chased by a kaiju,” He says it almost like a question and Hermann looks at him quizzically.

“So you remember the kaiju?” he asks.

“Yeah, dude, I mean I have been studying them for like...ten years?” He still feels uncertain, even of the facts he knows. Hermann sighs and shakes his head.

“Of course,” he murmurs. He looks rueful and his lips twitch just slightly.

“Imbecile,” he adds gently as he shakes his head.

“Hey now,” Newton begins, and the irritation is so ready and present it surprises him a little. He breaks off as Hermann stares at him with a mixture of lightly arid disdain and total exhaustion. It feels like a familiar look.

After a moment Hermann looks away.

“I do believe we are in some sort of bizarre drift right now...” He hesitates now glancing back at Newt, and Newt can't imagine why,

“I believe we are drifting with a kaiju,” Hermann says.

“Wait, _what?_ ” Newt asks, the words coming out sharp as his brain grinds to a halt.

Drifting.

D r i f t i n g

He wants to remember, but there is a wall and on one side of it is information. He _knows_ it's there and he is stuck on one side and information is on the other, and he _wants_ to remember. _Fuck_ he want's to remember as he presses on that wall that isn't real, it's in his brain, but isn't drifting a mental thing too? His head is really hurting and he is staring at Hermann and Hermann is staring back and...

The expression facing him is one that's switched from exhaustion to concern, or possibly worry, maybe a dash of anxiety and _ow_ his head really hurts,

“Newton?”

He brings a hand to his temple as he tries to focus on that wall, but it's like something just pushes him away. Forces him to sidestep and so he can't think about it.

“ _Newton._ ” He should definitely say something because Hermann seems really upset and this situation seems weirdly familiar.

“Ow...that was disappointing...”Newt mutters, not meeting Hermann's gaze as he effectively cracks the tension from the air. Hermann sighs again, this time in relief, but he does not move away.

“Did you remember something?”

“No dude...I can't seem to...remember things...like, important things. I know they're there and I can't remember them.” He can't keep the frustration from his voice and Hermann is looking at him again but the expression is now impossible to read. There is a lot happening in it and Newt wants to shut his eyes and go to sleep. Finally Hermann turns away from him.

“I experienced a similar effect for a span of time...I am fairly certain this drift has some unusual elements I cannot recall or I was unaware of.”

“Beyond mentally bonding with the kaiju? Because I would have imagined something a lot weirder while sharing a kaiju brain” Newt says gesturing at the nameless streets and Hermann shrugs

“You studied neurology, your more qualified to guess than I am.” he continues and Newt chuckles

“Dude ,neuroscience is the most ridiculous field ever. It's basically a bunch of guys with PhDs, wearing blindfolds, throwing shit and the walls, and going, fuck if I know.” He says it cheerfully and Hermann looks at him with a familiar mix of irritation and disdain...something else too.

“You're absolutely ridiculous,” he says and they return to silence. Newt finds himself constantly glancing over at Hermann. The man's expression turns pained.

“How much do you remember, Newton?” he asks softly and Newt looks away.

“I don't know dude...researching in labs...the kaiju tearing up San Francisco and stuff...and...” He trails off for a moment,

“Were there _actually_ giant robots?”

Hermann shakes his head with the ghost of a smile, but it fades quickly. He sighs and leans his head back against the brick wall.

“Yes, Newton. There were giant robots.”

“I remember a girl with blue hair” that gets another hint of a smile

“Mako Mori.” Hermann supplies. Newt sits back and tries to discern if the name tastes familiar to him. He's been trying to segue towards a question that feels cruel to ask, but he needs to know.

“So...” He drags on the syllable before looking at Hermann and then away again.

“Um...how do we know each other? ...Like who _are_ you?”

Hermann doesn't look at him, he doesn't even twitch. Instead he goes statue-like and stares straight ahead. After a long moment he blinks, like he was in a staring contest with the wall across the way and lost. Hermann looks down the alley and avoids Newt's gaze so he can only see the rough outline of Hermann's cheekbone and that mess of an overly severe haircut.

“I'm nobody, Newton. Nobody at all.”

Newt opens his mouth to dispute, or _say something_ but any response dies in his throat as they hear the distant thunder of monstrous footsteps. Their eyes lock in a moment of silent panicked promise.

Hermann speaks first as the second pounding rumble make pebbles skitter on the asphalt.

“ _Run!_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the only reason this chapter came so quickly was that I wrote it mostly while procrastinating...well my poor work habits are YOUR gain dear readers. I hope this lived up to it's lead in. Now who's up for a group hug with Hermann and Newt because the poor baes need it. I almost ended the chapter on the I'm nobody line but I decided LETS BRING BACK THE KAIJU...I can't decide which is meaner...I'm really sorry I like torturing you all...I'm a mean author


	30. Holding On to the Cracks in Our Foundation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will soon be updated with corrections from Thepsychoticchef
> 
> Also, this may not be immediately clear, the recurring line is Yancy's last line in the film

_'Raleigh, listen to me'_ Oh Raleigh was listening to Yancey that day, and every day since.

People always think he is so calm, maybe they forget the fact that he _ran_ from the jaeger program and threw himself into the construction of a giant, useless, monstrosity that served no real purpose. Every day he stared at the wall and knew he was wasting time. but he couldn't bring himself to get back in a jaeger.

People look at him and see someone in control. Or so he's told. It's so easy to seem in control after he's pieced himself together using what was left of his mind and his brothers. He can never tell which hurt him the most. The sensation of having an arm ripped off or a brother ripped away. Both feelings were not his own. One came from the jaeger and the other came from Yancey.

He had been left hanging, suspended in the con-pod after the kaiju tore Yancey out of the jaeger and killed him in seconds. And Raleigh felt it.

At least it had been a quick death. A small blessing.

But there was still a kaiju to fight as Gipsey screamed alarms at him and readouts turned red. He screamed and loaded his laser canon and fired. The kaiju was close and the blast hit both of them.

Finally he was alone with nothing but the full weight of the drift and the jaeger pressing on his mind. He felt like he was bleeding. He felt like everything was torn and broken. The jaeger couldn't feel pain but he could and so he felt for Gipsey.

He can't even remember the sluggish limp to shore. He only remembers slowly putting one foot in front of the other. He repeated this again and again and again. Over and over until he thought the drift was going to consume him, until the jaeger collapsed on top of him.

Drifting alone is like slowly eroding in the currents.

The only reason he noticed that he had reached the shore was because Gipsey tripped on it and collapsed in a heap of scrap and sparks. He didn't remember crawling out. He doesn't remember the man asking him if he was ok. He needed to keep moving. He kept putting one foot in front of the other.

_'Raleigh, listen to me'_

Oh, he was listening Yancey. He was definitely listening.

He doesn't remember collapsing, but he remembers the need to keep moving. It stuck with him after all was said and done and it drove him all the way to that fucking wall.

So people think he's calm. That's just because after walking through fire everything else seems cool as ice. His blood is ice, his mind is covered in frost. He doesn't feel that fear anymore because he can't. He won't.

The currents eroded and re-formed him into something else.

That's ok though, before he had been a stupid kid. All jazzed to go and kill kaiju. Yancey liked to piss him off by calling him 'kiddo.' He misses that.

_'Raleigh, listen to me'_

Yeah, Yancey?

In his mind he often answers Yancey. Almost hoping for a response because the voice still seems too real and present. There is no response.

It's probably a good thing, because if voices in his head started talking back then things were worse than he thought.

He had promised himself he would never drift again. He couldn't let himself get pulled alone through the currents. Who knew what that would do to him a second time?

And then he met Mako.

That girl was like a fire. Like an ocean trying to be dammed up. She could not be contained, and he didn't think she should be.

Seeing her reminded him of what it was like to be a kid. It made him feel like a brother again. He wanted to call her kiddo, just to see if she got annoyed.

When he finally stepped into the jaeger it was hard to hope he would 'save the world.' How the hell would he ever do that? He wasn't sure he could, but he had more attainable goals.

He had wanted to help the girl channel her fire right at the bastards that set it alight.

Drifting with her had been unreal and unlike anything he had ever experienced. She felt so much more than he ever could and she looked at the facts and saw different truths.

When he had to eject her from Gipsey, up to the surface, he knew he would be alone again. Luckily this time, as the currents dragged at him, he had Mako's sense of purpose, her drive, as a rudder guiding him through.

Since the drift, he had the feeling that there had been more going on than he had been able to pick up on. On that first night, after they had saved themselves and the world, he had looked at her with a stupid smile and called her kiddo. She blanched, and through their ghost of a connection, he felt something so raw he didn't have a name for it.

He had only seen the surface, and oceans have depths. She was avoiding him, and it wasn't fear, it was something sharper and more vulnerable.

There was nothing he could do for her now that her fires had been extinguished and the dam had broken. He didn't wish to upset her, and maybe he had done more damage than good when he insisted she join him in Gipsey.

Maybe he had ruined everything. It was hard to say.

Maybe she would learn to live in her wreckage like he had learned to live in his.

_'Raleigh, listen to me'_

_I'm listening Yancey._

But instead there is nothing.

Only silence and the sounds of muffled sobs coming from the closet.

 

***

 

The conversation with Caitlin had been...well...

“ _Any change?”_

“ _We'll call you at the first sign of anything.”_

“ _How long has it been?”_

“ _7 hours.”_

“ _How much longer before we should be worried about neural damage?”_

“ _...We'll call you as soon as anything changes.”_

And then there was nothing but the click of a dead line. The crying starts without her noticing and continues without her consent. She isn't expecting to be heard. She is trying her best to cry quietly.

The gentle sound of knuckles against the wooden door comes as a shock.

“Mako?” She feels as much as hears the question. She jumps to her feet and yanks the door open. Raleigh stands there looking as tired as she feels with questions all over his eyes.

Looking at him is like an electric shock. She knows how she must look, all red faced and smudged.

Raleigh probably wants to help, to comfort. Along with everything else she had felt that in the drift. That strange fraternal need to fix something.

“Please, go away Raleigh,” she whispers. Her voice coming out raw and scraped bare. He does not flinch and he does not leave.

“Would you tell me what's wrong? Please?” Such strange desperation rings through that plea and she stares at this man who feels like both a brother and a stranger. He feels like the only family she has left and he feels like nothing at all.

As for his question? How can she begin to address it? How can she find enough words to describe what is 'wrong'? She's alive when so many others aren't. So many are dead and some may be dying _right now._ She is 'wrong'. She's the thing that is broken. She is still alive when it feels wrong to be. How can she ever hope to deserve her continuing heartbeat?

She finds her voice,

“Raleigh...go.” Even her voice is breaking and Raleigh simply takes a step towards her. A small one. A baby step into her space.

“Please.” he repeats like a password.

Another small step.

“There's nothing to tell.” She says, having to look up now as he closes the gap between them.

“If there was nothing to tell you wouldn't be locking yourself in a closet,” he says in a way that feels diplomatic, or possibly an attempt at levity.

He takes another step.

“Please.”

Something inside her snaps like a broken bone.

“What do you _want_ me to say, Raleigh!” She yells drenched in frustration as she shoves blindly at his chest. She watches him stumble backwards, hands raised peacefully in the air. How very Gandhi...He chooses the strangest moments to be a pacifist.

“There is _nothing to say!_ ” She almost shouts this time.

"There is nothing more to say because it doesn't matter. You can't fix this. This isn't some problem you can punch in the face or blow up and it isn't going away and  _you can't fix it!_ " She spits the words in his face, willing it to be enough.

"I didn't think I could fix it Mako." He says with a shrug and well intentioned eyes.

"But I could listen,"

She stares at him, wondering at how all the pieces of him fit together into this configuration of a person. As she meets his gaze and the fight seeps out of her. She sinks to the floor and Raleigh slowly approaches.

When he is standing over her, he waits for her to look up at him and nod before he sits down.

Always asking for permission.

She watches him awkwardly settle on the carpet of this dark hotel room. It's past midnight and neither of them have switched on a light, so they stare in the muted half light of a full moon and a few street lamps leaking through the windows.

As she stares at him, she thinks about Yancey. She thinks about Stacker. She's crying again and she wonders if she will ever stop. Raleigh still meets her gaze, unblinking and steady. Like he can solve her problems just by bearing witness to them.

Slowly he reaches behind her to rest a hand on her shoulder. Within moments she is sobbing like a child. Like she can empty out all the sadness if she just cries hard enough. She leans into his shoulder and clutches at his shirt sleeve, because she needs to hold onto something stable. He holds her close, running a hand through her hair. He murmurs words of comfort and she wonders how much of this he told himself after Yancey. Somehow, on the most basic level, it helps to hear it, and hear it in his voice.

"It'll be alright kiddo, you'll see"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the chapter title comes from a Kate Nash song because I love it a super lot and it seems fitting...this series begs for discussions and references to oceans....I mean Pacific Rim in general since all fics like to talk about oceans and yeah im gonna shut up
> 
> BUT UPDATES. We wrapped principal photography on the film so that's amazing. I still have a lot on my plate until September but we will see after that. Hopefully things are going to be a little more level now.
> 
> Also oh man Mako and Raleigh...I am really proud of this bit I wrote for Raleigh and I'm glad I got to use it since Raleigh is not easy to write. Mako and Raleigh needed to work their shit out so this was nice. Actually talking to each other will be a good start.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the very short update. Longer explanation below
> 
> Beta'd by Thepsychoticchef!

It's like a game the universe is playing at his expense. Pile on the pain and see what he can take. Watch the man struggle, watch him crumble along the fault lines.

Hermann does not always necessarily believe in a higher power, but when he does, he usually imagines a cruel and sadistic god. Given the state of things that always seems fitting.

Now he races beside Newton, keeping his attention focused on the road ahead of him rather than checking behind him at this thing (is it even truly a kaiju?) that shakes the earth beneath them in their wake.

If this is a drift, how much of this is real? He feels the impact of his feet hitting the asphalt. The force of it grinding up his legs and jolting his knees. He feels the sweat on his face and body, he feels the burning in his chest from lack of air. He feels the exhaustion in his muscles as he wants to stop running and collapse somewhere.

But is this real?

Or is it all just a mental construct?

If damage to the body is sustained, will the real body also be harmed? Will the mind make that as real as this feels?

None of this makes any sense. He vaguely recalls movement being so painful and walking with a cane. Even now as he runs he feels a pain creeping back. It might be that, or it might be another strange symptom of this hellish drift.

And Newton...

Newton does not remember him. He can't seem to get past whatever mental blocks the drift has created for him, and that shouldn't hurt because it's absolutely out of their control.

And yet...

He wonders if this aching in his chest is entirely due to the need for oxygen.

He wonders if he can keep running as that _verdammt_ kaiju rears its head back and roars. Beside him, Newton yelps and somehow manages a fresh burst of speed. The roar shakes him as much as the creatures weight makes the earth tremble.

Hermann does his best to catch up to Newton, but the pain is definitely getting worse. It's in his muscles and his knees reaching all the way to his hips. He can feel his joints stiffen, like slowly freezing ice.

That _thing_ needs to go _away._ If only it would just stop. What does it even want?

_kaiju maim killdeath_

The voice comes as a shock because somehow Hermann remembers this.

_tearrip blood killhuman_

The words pound in his skull as he tries to keep running, but his leg is hurting so much that he doesn't even realize he's taken a bad step until he's skidding, and then falling. He hits the street hard, and for a moment all he can do is lie there, but the kaiju's next booming step brings him into the present.

He manages to roll onto his back so he can try to stand up, but it seems that he can't. He struggles for a moment before giving up and crawling on his back, his feet slipping and sliding over the damp asphalt. He tries to push himself away, or at least out of the way; if he can't then run he needs to hide. The monstrous thing, however, comes closer and looms over him, large and deadly.

It stops in front of him. He is backed against a wall. There is no more running. He tries to sit up straight and look it in the eye.

_kaiju killtake rip thingbody human_

He can't help but cringe at the echoing in his head. It's mouth is getting closer when he hears a cry.

_“ Hermann!”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I promised I wouldn't take so long come September and I apologize for continuing to delay. The main reason is I'm just very tired and burned out from the last few months. I'm also moving into a new apartment and starting a new job. And to top all that off, we are coming to the point in the story where plots need to resolve and that is not my best thing (I'm great at the people bits but overarching plots....yeah :/)
> 
> Basically sorry for the cliffhanger and the stupid short update. I have not forgotten about this fic and I will finish it but this is the hard stuff for me so please be patient with your very tired author.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here's what was meant to be the other half of the last chapter.  
> Beta'd by Thepsychoticchef

He can understand what's happening now (mostly). He can understand that he is running with a guy named Hermann who knows him probably better than he knows himself at the moment.

He knows that apparently they are drifting with a kaiju, but that doesn't make any sense, because there is a kaiju chasing them(shit fuck shitshitshit) and if they were drifting with a kaiju then he should be able to mentally access the kaiju hivemind; but aside from Hermann there is nothing; And even Hermann is blocked off in a way that is incongruous with a drift.

None of this makes any sense and this kaiju is going to eat them and then he will be dead and all these attempts at sense-making will be pointless.

He's far too hung up on this train of thought...

That and an overwhelming breathless terror as the monster crushes the ground underfoot, mere inches behind them, _oh my god._

That's when he looks over at Hermann and sees,

He is not there

Why is he not there?

He skids to a stop and nearly topples over in his attempt to turn and look behind him.

Hermann is lying on the ground and the kaiju (which one is it? Tresspasser? Otachi? He can't even tell) is hovering over Hermann with fangs bared and Hermann is scrambling to get away,

But he won't make it. Newt sees it as Hermann realizes it and he stops struggling.

No.

He raises his chin like it's his final act of defiance.

_No._

That is _not_ how this is supposed to happen!

He reaches for the other man from a great distance and in that microscopic moment, that millisecond of time ticking onward,

Something clicks into place in a blinding, breathtaking, skull shattering moment of absolute clarity.

Hermann.

_Hermann._

Nights spent in a collective and silent state of awake because work had to be done. Days spent in angry shouting matches and the moments of gentle quiet. The hand on Newt's forehead and the voice that read him poetry.

_Hermann!_

How could he have ever forgotten the man who might know him better than anyone ever has.

How could he have ever forgotten Dr. Hermann Gottlieb of the arid disdain and mathematical badassery that was one half of a world saving team. The man with more to give while the world keeps taking.

This was the guy who was willing to risk his mind for Newt, the man who was willing to share the neural load and apparently is doing it again.

The guy who, when faced with certain death, chooses to glare at it with defiant steel in his eyes and in his spine.

And Newt is just standing here. He can stop this. He has to.

With no resources and no time he _will_ stop this, like the way he helped stop the ending of the world.

He grabs a decent sized rock off the street and hurls it with all his might at the kaiju. It bounces off its scaly flank and Newt takes a deep shaky breath to shout,

“ _Hey you useless sack of acidic shit, I'm over here!”_

Hermann jerks to look at him with a panic that had been previously absent. The kaiju pauses, its teeth inches from Hermann. Newt lets his trembling hands curl into fists.

“ _Come and get me asshole, come on! I'm ready and willing!”_ He keeps shouting as he waves his arms wildly in a frantic need to hook the predators attention.

It works.

Slowly it turns away from Hermann and takes a booming step towards him.

His voice comes out softer now, coaxing it forwards as his heart tries to pound out of his chest.

“Come on, it's always been me you wanted,” he murmurs as it closes the distance between them.

Up close, he is finally able to see its full and terrible majesty. A wonder of nature and evolution that fulfills its deadly biological directives better than anything that has come before it.

Meanwhile his instincts, honed by years of experience and evolution, are screaming for him to run; But he can't.

He won't.

“ _Newton!”_ Hermann says as he clambers to his feet. Two syllables laced with desperation and a lot more than Newt has time to unpack at the moment.

Instead he looks at Hermann and gives him a shaky grin, like the stupid, reckless scientist he's always been and always will be. Making stupid decisions with the best intentions is the only skill he has ever perfected and right now he is masterfully doing exactly that.

“Don't worry Hermann, I've got this,” He says in a voice that's surprisingly sure as he faces the monster before him and his grin widens into something terrified and ready.

“You and me, bitch, come on,” because if these are his last words then he will be damned if they aren't badass as fuck.

“Let's drift.”

With those final words, he opens himself up to the oncoming storm and lets it overwhelm him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I hope this actually feels a bit badass. Like as badass as Newt can be? I don't know dude. I don't know  
> We're heading into the final stretch now.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So these final chapters will have no beta because Thepsychoticchef is busy so I apologize for a lack of commas.
> 
> Also this may have been one of the hardest chapters for me to write. I hope it was worth the wait

It begins first like a trickle.

A gentle stream of thoughts and impressions, unfinished and forgotten.

Some are his and some aren't.

The organic cities they created; Strange horizons glowing blue under foreign suns and moons.

The night he got his first tattoo and a needle pushed ink into his skin.

Then it becomes a deluge.

They were created for the continued survive—that one time he accidentally cut himself with the scalpel and Hermann--they build higher and higher because they can—a gentle hand resting on his forehead before he fell—

It's a swirling torrent that moves like a heartbeat; Each passing second hurts more than the next.

The thoughts are alien, incompatible with a single human mind.

Every thought or memory strikes him with an almost physical pain. It feels like mashing two jigsaw pieces together that don't fit over and over again until their edges begin to fray.

He sees the cities they built and rebuilt time and time again.

_\--How did he manage to get on the floor? Why is Hermann holding him and swearing at him? Why is his nose bleeding? Is he dying or--_

_\--The kaijusurvive kaiju endure entropydying--_

It feels like he's getting thousands of pieces of millions of different thoughts at once. Each image or feeling crashes into him with a sickening impact. It feels like every inch of him must be bleeding.

_\--Cities die kaijudonot must not kaiju aredying tear kill mustnot die--_

_\--Watching that thing tear through San Francisco is like--”_

He tries to understand, he can almost comprehend, but it's too much. No human can withstand this. Newt can not withstand this. Underneath it all he can vaguely recall the importance of a neural load, information he was sent to find, a panicked face he left behind, but there are too many voices in his head. None of them are his, but all of them are screaming.

Under the avalanche of thoughts he feels himself coming undone.

_\--He is going to drift with Hermann, Hermann was going to drift with_ him  _the words came out before he could even seek to reconsider them “You would do that for m--_

_\--Seeksurvive kaiju seekhome new live mustnotdie--_

And even as he begins to fray, as the strain is pulling him apart, he understands.

The fragments coalesce into something like a clear picture.

This is their nature. They do not act out of malice.

They were made to be predators and so they prey. Their quarries seem like little more than ants to them. No carnivore considers how its meat feels about living before they consume it.

The kaiju react to threats. They react to survive.

They are a spare parts race whose very chemical make-up makes them destructive to their environments until even they can't survive in them. So they find new worlds to colonize and live in. Each time, more of them die. The kaiju, the precursors, all of them.

The Earth was just another new home as their population continued to dwindle.

Like every other living thing, they just want to survive the inevitable decline of their species.

In an instant that feels like a million infinities packed into a single second, Newton Geiszler understands that they do not need to kill the kaiju. Their way of life will eventually end them because entropy is inevitable.

He almost feels sorry for them.

Creatures of instinct and victims to their own nature, that makes them self destruct...he can relate.

But even as he understands, the pain is becoming overwhelming. He can't withstand this.

He is fading now, losing himself to the flood. Losing coherency, losing his sense of self

In the final moments that pass far too quickly, he feels afraid.

He isn't ready to die yet. He wants to do more, discover more. He wants to sit in the lab that feels more like home than anywhere else ever has. He wants to _see_ Hermann again and sit beside him. He wants to listen to him read weird poetry and hold his hand.

He's not ready to end, but in a matter of moments, Dr. Newton Geiszler, with the wild intelligence and brash attitude, will be no more.

 

***

Newton stands before that monstrous thing with a grin and says those final words like a challenge. The rest happens instantaneously. His eyes roll back and he's on the ground in a boneless heap. The kaiju remains frozen in place, lifeless and statuesque.

Hermann lies on the ground for a moment in breathless shock. _What just happened?_

Finally he gets up and crawls, almost hesitantly, towards Newton.

What he's seeing makes no sense. If they are all mental projections of their physical selves than why is Newton lying there unconscious?

He has no answers, only the understanding that this drift is unusual in the extreme.

And Newton had put himself in danger again...for him.

He sits beside Newton and leans close to study his unconscious form, its almost an instinct to check his pulse and heartbeat but he isn't even sure if that is relevant in this form.

So he sits and stares at Newton.

It's almost like watching him sleep, but also like the man isn't even there. There is some sense of Newton that Hermann hadn't even realized existed before, and now it is completely absent.

Newton is so far from him now. He's in a full and true drift with the kaiju and he is once again bearing the full weight of a heavy neural load. He can't do that alone.

Hermann reaches down and takes the man's hand. The act feels natural and familiar, but the hand is cold and limp; Like clasping hands with a corpse.

He is reminded of that time, it seems centuries ago, when he held this man's hand as a promise that they were going to do good.

That was so long ago.

If he is going to act, he needs to do it now.

No one would ever imagine Hermann as a man of action, but he is endlessly forced into it because he has no other choice _._ There is no other choice now except this one.

So he shuts his eyes and finds _that_ wall. The wall that might have been a protection or a barrier.

It appears like the failed coastal wall and he stands alone on one side of it, the dirt around his feet littered with detritus nobody will ever remember or care to.

On the other side, is the ocean.

Newton has found a way through and here, with the smell of ocean in his nostrils, he can feel him distantly and fading fast. There is no time for consideration.

Raising one hand, he pounds on the smooth surface of the wall.

When that has no immediate reaction he beats at it with renewed force. He lets so much pent up anger go into punching down this wall.

He beats at it until it feels like his hands are bruised and battered. He screams at it's futility and draws back for a moment. Newton had done this in a moment, and with no visible effort. Through simple determination he had beat this thing.

Hermann shuts his eyes and focuses on that fading sense of Newton. He focuses on it with all his might.

There is no wall in his way. Walls mean nothing here.

_There is no wall._

And just like that, it falls away and the drift covers him like a tidal wave.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that got a little Matrix-y at the end there didn't it? There is no spoon Hermann o.o  
> Well I apologize again for the how long this took. I hope you enjoyed it.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I once again want to put the disclaimer that I worked really hard on this chapter and it still might suck.

At first it feels like chaos. An invasion on his mind from everything direction and everything is screaming. Whether it is in protest or rage he can't possibly tell.

Luckily, Hermann Gottlieb is well accustomed to the sensation of pain. So he pushes fiercely past it and continues onward.

It feels like being lost in a storm.

It feels like drowning in an ocean.

And he needs to find Newton.

So he searches and all the while, feels the foreign entities trying to encroach. Trying to creep inside his mind and twist it in every direction.

How does one search in a mental space? He doesn't know but he keeps trying. It feels like walking, but how can it be?

He must be swimming, fiercely battling the current, and nothing makes sense here not even his senses.

For quite a while he had a wall protecting him, there is no wall now so he has to make his own.

He sets his jaw and keeps searching, trying to follow that thread of a connection that he knows, _he knows,_ must belong to Newton. He has to find him soon.

Iron determination is the only thing holding him together and he is certain that won't last forever. Already he can feel himself beginning to crumble at the edges.

It might have taken him minutes, or it might have taken hours, but eventually he does find him.

The sight alone is enough to break him. The sight of Newton, lying in a heap, crumpled and faded. After a moment where he finds he cannot speak, Hermann kneels down beside the other man. He takes Newton's hand, it feels like holding wet paper that's about to tear. Still, he presses on. He sends a wordless, soundless query to him

_'Newton?'_

Slowly, the man opens his eyes. Hermann can feel his exhaustion in every particle of his being. He is so very tired, and it makes Hermann ache more than anything in the tumult around them.

_'...Hey Herm...'_ and the faded figure even manages to crack a smile. Hermann can't help but smile back but it fades quickly. 

The air around them seems to be pulsing and Hermann looks warily around, much good that it does him. The pain starting to lance through his skull is getting hard to take.

_'Newton, we have to go,'_ his grip on the other man's hand tightens.

Newt's smile widens a little but it doesn't reach his eyes, _'I can't.'_

Hermann leans forward with his most ferocious glare. _'Yes you can. You can and you will!'_

Newton slowly shakes his head, _'I'm nothing but dead weight now, Hermann.'_

_'That's a lie and you know it!'_ Hermann replies.

Newton shakes his head again and this time a tear slides down his cheek, ' _It's really not.'_ Something makes him pause. His expression turns wretched, _'I'm done Hermann...I'm just done and I'm so tired.'_

Something breaks on those final words and Hermann feels the anger drain away. ' _I know_ liebling _, I know.'_ He rests a hand against Newton's cheek and the man shuts his eyes. _'Just a little farther.'_

Newton looks away and Hermann feels the first hint of real terror.

_'Please, Newton'_

There must be some new tone to his words because he turns back to Hermann now. With his attention focused, Hermann continues. _'I'm not leaving you here. If you stay, so do I.'_

There aren't even words to respond. He can feel the panic his words alone bring the to other man, but he still meets Newton's gaze with steely eyes. It's not a bluff or a lie, it's a fact. They stay locked for several dangerous moment. Newton pales a little more and Hermann's skull aches dangerously, but still he waits.

Newton looks away again. They need to move soon. He can see Newton fading.

_'Please do this for me...or do it with me,'_ Hermann trails off and wonders if the other man can feel his fear and desperation.

Newton meets his gaze slowly. His expression gives nothing away until gradually, wearily, he nods. The hand Hermann has between both of his gives a little squeeze and Hermann can't help but smile wide.

_'Alright Newton, let's go home.'_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't knoooow. We are getting towards finishing this now and I don't even know if it's still being read.  
> Although as an aside I meant to mention in the last chapter that my characterization of Kaiju and precursors is kinda way off canon but oh well :/  
> Also trying to describe things in a non physical way because *mental space* is REALLY HARD.   
> And I HAD A RECURRING LINE I DID THE THING, THAT ONE LINE WAS A REFERENCE TOO (Ok I'm sorry but one of my favorite authors is Sarah Dessen who is basically a wizard at dropping lines that recur later in a way that is perfect)


	35. Chapter 35

The flight back to Hong Kong is silent. Raleigh had said all he could to comfort her back in the hotel room. Now he holds her hand in some display of quiet solidarity. It is comforting, if only as a reminder of his steady presence

Last night he had held her until the crying was done. As soon as it was, he went for the phone and canceled all their press interviews for the next week. That had been an unexpected relief. Soon after that, she had booked their flights.

The pilot announces over the PA that they will be landing in several minutes. Mako's fingers tap a nervous staccato on her arm rest.

Raleigh doesn't load her down with empty promises of 'I'm sure their fine' and so on. She is very grateful for that. As the plane descends through the clouds and land becomes visible again, tiny and map-like, streets like veins spidering throughout it's surface. Raleigh leans over and whispers in her ear,

“You know last time we were this high up, it was in Gipsey,” That's false since they've flown at least 5 times since their dramatic final drift with Gipsey Danger. She gives him a pointed look and he shrugs, not at all bothered to be caught in a lie. The corner of her lips quirk upwards and Raleigh leans back against his seat and gives her hand a squeeze.

The land outside her window goes from a map to an endless array of toy cars and houses. A child's playroom.

Finally it begins to look like something real as they get ready to land. She wishes that watching the ground could be more distracting. Her fingers keep tap-tapping the armrest.

As soon as the wheels are down and the plane slows she turns on her cell phone. No missed calls.

She stares at the display and debates throwing the phone in frustration, instead she opts to put it back in her pocket. Raleigh gives her other hand another small squeeze.

Eventually they exit the plane and head through the terminal. Every minute or so she checks her phone and she keeps her head down.

Raleigh had mentioned before they got on the first flight that, with all the media coverage there could be some noise over them in a public airport. Neither of them had wanted that so, Mako wears a beanie over her bright blue streaks and Raleigh just keeps his head down.

And her phone still doesn't ring.

They have been in that drift for a little over a day and her phone remains as irritatingly silent as it had for the last 20 hours. It continues it's silent treatment as they get their baggage and leave the airport. It remains cruelly quiet right up until a taxi pulls up for them.

Raleigh opens the door for her and she is about to make a face at him for it when it rings.

A single piercing musical tone.

Their eyes meet for a moment, wide and unsure.

She pulls her phone from the pocket and reads the caller ID; It's Lightcap.

She stares at Raleigh as the phone rings out again, demanding her response. She's been waiting for an answer but now she is almost afraid of what it might be.

Raleigh smiles a little,

“Go on,” he nudges her as it rings a third time. She takes a deep breath and answers the call,

“Mako Mori speaking,”

“Mako, it's Dr. Lightcap.”

***

Tendo sits in the mess hall and stares at his cell phone. He placed it on the table by his tray so he wouldn't miss a call. Herc had updated him on the situation last night. According to Lightcap, they've been in the drift for 28 hours and change.

Herc had told him and shortly after he had burst into the medical bay ready to do some damage or make some demands but he had lost that fire quickly.

They were just finishing up memorials today. He was so frustrated that they had missed it, that it couldn't have been rescheduled, that some questioned whether waiting for them was worth it.,

In the end the brass had decided that this drift could not be public knowledge and so the service went according to schedule.

Herc had said something sweet and gruff for his boy, Tendo had spoken for the Kaidonovskys and the Wei Triplets. They were waiting to do a service for Pentacost once Mako was back in Hong Kong since it hadn't seemed right to do one without her. That at least, they could do.

The ceremony had been short. They hadn't recovered most of the bodies.

Most had been lost to the ocean.

So this was simply a memorial, a wake, something that was more for the living than the dead.

They had just finished with those they had lost and when Tendo stood beside the beds of Hermann and Newton, he could only feel dread about burying two more friends. The apocalypse is supposed to be over. Now is supposed to be time for the living.

And yet...

He doesn't know all the circumstances, but he knows enough.

He knows that they looked almost like they were sleeping and he isn't childish enough to expect them to wake up.

He can hope though.

And so he waits with his cell in the mess hall and picks at the food on his tray. He doesn't have much work to do yet, as the government picks itself up and decides what it wants to do next, and so he doesn't even have the luxury of distraction. At fourteen hundred hours the phone rings.

He stares at it as it rings once, twice, three times before he picks it up.

For a long moment he silently listens.

His face gives away nothing.

“Yes...thank you...I'll be right there,” he hangs up the phone and stares at it for a minute.

Eventually he leans back and lets out a sigh. A smile plays at his lips.

A few seats away from him is an attractive Korean lieutenant.

“Hey, want to get drinks later?”

He stares, and Tendo simply grins. Today is now a much better day.

***

At first he only hears sounds; the beeping of monitors and quick footsteps.

Then he hears the voices in bits and pieces.

“...Heart rate and pulse are steady, we need to check...”

“...I know that Doc, this might surprise you but I also have a degree...”

“...stop it, we're all very tired...”

It 's a struggle to even open his eyes. His eyelids felt glued and weighted shut.

After several minutes, he finally opens them.

The first face that pulls into focus is framed by a hijab, it has a floral pattern he can just recall.

“Dr. Geiszler, if you can hear me please respond,”

He stares at her feeling a lack of comprehension.

He lifts a finger up and down in a small wave and she looks relieved.

She's asking him more questions but he's stopped listening, across the way he sees another gurney. There are bodies walking back and forth occasionally obstructing his view but Newt can still see him.

Hermann Gottlieb is lying there looking very tired, but awake.

He's looking at the doctors and nodding. But after a moment his eyes flick over to meet Newton's.

For a moment, neither of them moves. Even the air seems to still as something holds it's breath.

They are both alive.

The realization and relief of it crash over both of them. They are both very much alive.

Then,

very slowly...

Hermann smiles brighter than the sun.

It is a moment that is shocking in its perfection. No moment has ever been this wonderful. Future moments will have to live up to this and Newt is so incredible happy to be alive to see it.

He can't help but smile back. Returning sun for sun.

Like all perfect moments, it is short lived. Hermann's eyes flick to those around them and he looks away almost embarrassed. But his eyes remain crinkled at the corners as he covers that smile with a shaking hand.

Newt turns to face Dr. Siddiq who is now quiet and staring between the two of them. She looks amused as she restarts her questions.

On the other side of the room Hermann shoots Newt a more sober look that says _'we're going to have a talk later'_

And that's fine.

For now he's not dead and with an uncoordinated wave of his hand at Dr. Siddiq he rolls over and goes back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said this story was gonna have a happy ending? I mean like it won't be perfect but I hate tragedies. Also this smile thing is a concept that I entirely ripped off from the end of Wristcutters: A Love Story.  
> So....yeah...I don't know how many more chapters it will take to wind everything down (2 or 3 is my guess) but the big questions been answered now. Not dead is best I think. Now they need to sit and have a real talk because...they need that...they are gonna have words...yup


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend before or after reading you go listen to The Sore Feet Song by Aly Kerr. I almost stole a lyric as the title for this chapter but you should just listen to it.

When Newton wakes up this time he feels very tired, but somehow finished with sleep. His eyes slowly push open as the room comes into a hazy sort of focus.

The room is dark except for a few monitors that still quietly display signs of life. Beneath the somewhat ghostly glow he can see Hermann lying in the gurney across the room.

If Newt were in a walking mood he could reach the other man in two steps but he just doesn't feel that active yet, so he reaches for his glasses and shakily jams them on his nose.

Hermann is awake, and seemingly unaware of Newton. He is holding a hand in front of his face, his expression clinical. From where Newt sits he can see the tremor that Hermann must be examining with detached interest. He supposes Hermann doesn't need steady hands for math.

The thought immediately strikes him as a callous one and on an impulse he turns away and holds his own hand up for inspection.

There is definitely a tremor. The sort that will make dissection of any specimen a waste. He is going to need other people to do work for him. The thought is not a pleasant one.

He looks back at Hermann, who is now sitting up and watching _him_. Newt gulps.

The Gottlieb gaze is not an easy thing to endure but he sits there and manages it. Memories casually surfacing and shuffling into their place. He doesn't remember the whole drift but he remembers enough.

Hermann is still silent.

Newt is starting to wonder if he is ever going to actually speak but the man just continues to stare, brow furrowed.

Maybe he has no verbal attacks to make today?

Maybe he has a million?

He pushes himself up, he won't take whatever it is lying down...at least not literally.

Hermann has almost zero reaction to this.

“For the love of god Hermann--” He is going to continue but he stops in dull surprise. The words hadn't been unintelligible by any means, but there is a definite change in his speech. A slurring and stuttering of vowels and consonants, like his brain has forgotten precisely how his mouth worked.

In the scheme of things this is a small cost;

Very, very small...  
and yet...

He's had a stammer for most of his life but this is far worse than that.

He looks down at the hospital blanket covering him. In the dim light it looks gray--

The shuffle and tap of Hermann getting out of bed distracts Newt. The cane sounds thunderous against the linoleum in an otherwise silent room. The IV stand he drags beside him is equally deafening with its squeaky wheels.

Even as he stares, he has to resist the temptation to to work his jaw around and tug at his lips... like that might accomplish anything. He wants to see if they will feel different. Like maybe there is a physical reason? There isn't but there could be?

In the privacy of his own room he might stare in the mirror and watch himself speak, but he doesn't want Hermann to see that.

Hermann lets out a sigh as he sits down on the edge of Newt's bed.

“We drifted for something like 29 hours, on untested equipment, with a kaiju. We were bound to be affected. Be grateful that so far it all seems fairly minor,” This is probably Hermann's fairly obvious way of reminding him to be thankful they aren't dead, and he is.

He _is_.

It's just that maybe half of his identity has always been wrapped up in having that smart mouth to lecture and chatter and talk his way out of and through any situation. It's silly but he feels somewhat helpless without it. A little emptier than before.

He considers not answering. He considers never speaking again so Hermann doesn't have to hear him sound like this because he feels ashamed of it. Irrationally, incredibly, unbelievably embarrassed.

But Hermann is sitting there waiting...

It's not like he can _not_ talk to Hermann after everything that's happened.

“It's just...” he speaks slowly, it helps with the stutter, but it does nothing to touch the blurring of vowels and consonants. It sounds like his words had been lightly stirred on the way out of his mouth. He blushes little and looks away feeling a little stupid.

“I am just figuring this out...I need to get used to it.”

“It's been a few hours and I'm still adjusting Newton, but I would very much like to discuss something else with you.” Hermann is looking down and away. Something in his tone grabs Newt's full attention.

He stares at Hermann and waits. The moments pass silence and he takes the time to study that severe profile. He had thought for years that Hermann was all edges but he remembers things...he remembers a lot of things. He remembers the not remembering and he remembers Hermann guiding him through it. He remembers being so afraid and comforted by his steady presence. He remembers a careless question that caused more damage than he could have expected or understood at the time.

Finally Hermann has his words together and speaks

“I have a question that I need you to answer honestly, but first I must apologize.”

An apology?

That's an unexpected development and the look on Newt's face says as much because Hermann glances at him and makes a dismissive gesture.

“I mean it Newton, after the drift I was...uncomfortable...we had prevented an apocalypse and we had survived but,” he pauses.

Newt can easily recall the initial euphoria that was somehow immediately replaced with an awkward bitterness. They had gone back so quickly into being angry and distant.

“I had not anticipated just how...personal the drift was. You had thoughts that were mine and I didn't want you to have them. And I had thoughts of yours that didn't belong there. It was upsetting and I acted irresponsibly. I'm not sure what I could have done but if I had been honest with you from the start than we might not have ended up here and so I apologize.” He does not look at Newt for most of this speech. Instead he stares at his hands as they continue to tremble, resting in his lap. It's not until the end of this pronouncement that he finally meets Newt's gaze and Newt can't help but feel a little awed.

Hermann does not do grand gestures or apologies. He does not discuss his feelings. Emotions are a walled off territory that remains unseen and unknown. This is new for both of them and Newt is also more than a little surprised by where he's placing all the blame.

He is about to open his mouth and object. He wants to tell Hermann that he's a little bit wrong since Newt _was_ lying to him for a lot of that time.

But Hermann beats him to the punch.

“Now Newton, I need you to explain to me, why...

He hesitates looking deeply lost

“Why did you do this?” It's a simple question. A surprisingly simple one and its asked with very little anger.

He stares with searchlight eyes in the dark. As if, even in the gloom, he might gain some of his answers in Newt's expression.

“The first drift nearly killed you and the second clearly had side effects that were horrible for you. Why in the name of sanity did you hook yourself up to that thing and drift a third time?”

Newt bites his lip now and looks down.

His throat feels tight.

When he does speak he goes slowly and tries to get the words out as best he can.

“The PPDC...people were concerned that the rift could reopen. They wanted more information. Lightcap came in order to oversee the project. Those last couple of days before we were running tests with me hooked up to it...not in a full drift but...Herc didn't want to order it, he was made to probably. Lightcap didn't want to do it either and...”

He fidgets with unsteady hands.

“They said if I didn't do it then they'd get you to do it.”

He hears Hermann take a breath but he still can't look at him.

“And if you didn't just say 'yes' right off the bat because of your thing about honor and duty than they could have made you do it, I don't know how but they could have found something to make you do it the way they found something to make me do it. So I did. Because I was already fucked up and you were okay and I wanted you to stay that way. I made sure everybody who knew kept it a secret from you and it was basically Lightcap, Dr. Siddiq and Herc and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I was even a tiny bit curious about what _might_ happen. I'm sorry I didn't tell you and I'm sorry you had to drift with me. It wasn't like last time where I said all that stupid stuff about it being your fault if I died, _it wasn't like that._ ”

He gestures wildly and Hermann watches him, silent and pale. The words are slipping out faster than he can manage them and he trips and stumbles on them like a skater on thin ice.

“I'm sorry for everything Hermann, I'm sorry that I forgot you, I'm _so sorry_ I don't know how I could have ever forgotten you _ever._ I'm just--” his words tear to a halt when Hermann rests a hand on his cheek.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but his eyes seem to study Newt in some new way.

After a moment he pulls his hand away and reaches past Newt, grabbing a couple of tissues from the box beside the gurney. Slowly he leans forward and dabs at what Newt realizes is a fresh nosebleed.

When he leans back holding the bloody tissues his expression is a mix of fond irritation, he looks at Newt as though he sees everything he is now and is wryly unsurprised.

Newt stares back, edgy and uncertain.

“You're an imbecile” he tells him. The words startle a laugh out of Newt. He grabs the tissues out of Hermann's hand because he probably still needs them and glances fretfully at Hermann.

“I know man, I mean...”  
“I wasn't finished, Newton” his tone is almost severe but his mouth isn't.

“You're an imbecile...but thank you. I accept your apology.”

The words leave Newt temporarily speechless. He gapes at Hermann who is still gazing back at him with something uncommonly gentle in his eyes, its hard to tell in the dark but he might be blushing a little.

Newt reddens in turn and reaches up to scratch at his hair. After a moment he looks back at Hermann.

“Right back at ya' dude,” his voice cracks a little and the stutter is unbearable but Hermann smiles at him and that's awesome.

After a moment passes and Hermann drops his hand. They sit there in a silence that is almost awkward but heavy with something else. Something they haven't quite voiced yet.

Finally Newt decides to take a chance.

“Could we just...lie here...like...together?” His face must resemble a tomato but Hermann blushes too and nods.

Newt scooches over and there is some ungainly shoving and adjusting until they are lying there facing each other. The room is still dark and the quiet covers them like a soft blanket

“How much do you remember from the drift?” Hermann asks in an almost whisper.

“Parts of it...I think a lot of it.” Newt whispers back.

“That might be a good sign.”

“I suppose...” Newt squints at him in the dark as one memory jumps forward. His voice cracks a little on the question as he asks,

“Did you _really_ try to tell me you were _nobody_?”

Hermann shrugs and looks down.

“There were more pressing matters at hand.”

Another long silence drifts by like a slow breeze with nothing to mark it but the gentle tick of a clock on the far wall.

“You're not,” Newt says in half non sequiter. Hermann's eyes slide back towards him. Up close Newton can see the hundred thoughts that must flick through his mind in double time. Emotions felt and reactions considered.

Finally, he smiles; a little smile that gentles all of the edges one might associate with Hermann Gottlieb. Even a little smile looks so unexpectedly perfect. This _feels_ perfect.

Maybe it's an after effect of the drift. A small ghosting of intent that might belong to one and becomes both. Neither would ever admit they were first, and neither is sure they were second.

Somebody moved their hand into the negative space between them. It was quickly met and grasped. Fingers intertwined in something better than a physical or neural handshake.

Palm to palm, skin against skin.

It felt so good to be alive and to have him there.

To have his gaze met and returned.

Later they would sleep, they would entangle. Arms wrapping and bodies touching. They would sleep and dream of nothing but good things with the other beside them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Seriously go listen to that song and picture the ending bit...also check out All my Days by Alexi Murdoch)  
> Remember when I said eventually nice things would happen? WELL NOW  
> Also not the end. A little more to go. I will literally write THE END so you know  
> And this was hard to write. Um how to show people expressing affection in a not sexual way????? I don't even enjoy reading that but it's so easy to just fall into that. I just struggled a lot. 
> 
> Serious thanks to KaijuKatty for spending a day reading this whole ridiculous fic and making my day at work A MILLION TIMES BETTER as I read those comments. Enjoy the update ^_^


	37. Chapter 37

When Hermann wakes up from the first peaceful sleep he's had in possibly years, there's a moment of dissonant disorientation as he opens his eyes and sees Newton sleeping peacefully across from him, his arm draped over Hermann's torso. After a moment's consideration though, his first thought is: _who's yelling at the door?_

Somebody is yelling right outside their room in the medical bay. A man raising his voice and several other voices underneath. Hermann glances over at the door but the vague shapes moving in the small glass window tell him almost nothing.

He looks back in time to see Newton wake up. One moment, he is asleep and the next he is wide eyed, tense and awake. So he hears the shouting too.

Their eyes meet as the shouting clarifies into audible words.

“No I demand to speak to them this instant!”

“They've just been through hell, they should rest.”

“You're trying to tell me we have to end this line of study and now you want to deny me access to the subject.”  
“ _His name is Dr. Geiszler, Admiral Patel_ ”

Slowly Hermann sits up and sets his feet off the side of the bed.

Now it might look like he is just sitting with Newton. A glance back at the other man shows he is sitting up now looking terrified. But he nods when Hermann catches his eye.

The door slams open and an older man in a suit strides into the room followed by Lightcap, and Hansen. He can see the labtech Dr. Siddiq hangs in the doorway.

The man stands straight and barges up them with a glare. Even his glare is loud.

“You were tasked with finding information that could help us in the case of another breach. Did you find _anything_?” The question would be a decent one if it weren't for the tone it was asked in. Hermann frowns at the man who seems to take up very little space in the room, he is barely taller than _Newton_. Hermann looks down at him and his receding hairline.

Hercules stands by the door looking at them almost apologetically.

After a moment Hermann quickly realizes Admiral Patel's glare is not focused on him so much as it is on Newton. A glance back at Newton shows him looking pale and subdued.

“I-I-I found n-noth--” his words come out slowly and are cut off when the admiral whirls away to face Lightcap,

“Is he brain damaged?”

Everyone falls utterly silent. All eyes are on them and Hermann realizes with a pang that Newton would not want his new form of speech discovered so publicly.  
Newton goes red with shame.

After a moment Caitlin speaks softly through gritted teeth.

“The damage is minor--”

“So he could go in again?” The admiral demands and the room goes dead, as if all the air has left the room. Newton clutches at his sheets with pale hands. Caitlin is staring at the small man with a blank expression that somehow radiates fury.

“Let me go get his paperwork.”

She goes to a cabinet against the wall and pulls out a folder. Without a word she shoves it into Admiral Patel's hands. They watch quietly as he opens the file.

Hermann sits and watches, he is steeped in tension. After a moment he thinks of the man behind him and reaches back to grab one of Newton's shaking hands. Their matching tremors are almost a comfort. Unlike Caitlin, he makes no attempt to hide the hostlity in his gaze when he glares at the admiral.

The man is currently flicking through the pages of his file barely reading them. Across the room Caitlin meet's Hermann eyes and nods fractionally. He doesn't quite know what to make of that when he can hear Newton's panicked breathing just behind him.

The admiral pauses on a page, his expression shifting to something other than predator.

He flicks to another page and another with growing consternation.

“These aren't signed,” he states and Caitlin looks at him with that blank expression, her eyes going wide,

“Oh, what isn't?”

“Release forms, consent forms, none of it.”

“Oh my, that must be very bad,” she says, as though the thought just occurred to her. In the doorway Dr. Siddiq begins to grin.

The admiral pales and stares at Caitlin.

She stares back with a blank smile.

Hermann tightens his grip on Newton's hand before adding,

“Well without official consent one could argue about the legality or possibly even the ethics of this avenue of research. One might even go so far as to question the PPDC's methods in court.” His tone is delicately neutral, but his posture and gaze are like iron.

From the doorway Dr. Siddiq adds,

“Without consent they could _win_ that appeal...I would hate to be the one involved in this _study._ ”

The man goes still paler until finally he whirls on Caitlin.

“Oh my, that seems not at all good,” she says shaking her head with big, innocent eyes. The admiral goes red as he shouts,

“You _planned_ this. You and this one,” he points to Newton, “You planned for this. Well we are _trying_ to save mankind here--”

“Mankind d-d-doesn't need sa-saving.” The words are slow and stuttered but the room goes silent.

“The k-k-kaiju a-and their pre-precursors...they a-are _dying_ out. Th-th-the whole sp-species i-i-is dy-dying out. With any l-l-luck, th-they will be g-g-gone b-before they c-can ever at-attack u-u-us again.”

The admiral glares at Newton with narrowed eyes.

“This isn't over” he says as a final promise and all eyes glare at him

From the doorway Dr. Siddiq says,

“I think it is, if this gets legal I'm sure there are a million human rights violations you violated while you were at it.”

He glares at her before storming out of the room. Herc nods at them before following the admiral out.

All of them look at each other for a moment.

“I d-do not e-envy th-that g-g-guy right now,” Newt stutters with a crooked smile. The words startle a laugh from Hermann that finally breaks the tension in the room. He takes a moment to glance over at Dr.Lightcap and Dr. Siddiq.

“Thank you,” he tells them as sincerely as he is able. They share smiles before Hermann turns back to Newt. He opens his mouth to speak when the door bursts open a second time.

It's Mako standing in the doorway looking like a tired storm. Her mouth is a thin quivering line and her hands are fisted at her sides.

The pair turn to stare at her as Raleigh edges into the room behind her. He glances back and forth between her and them seeming like he wants to say something but is at a loss for what to say.

The moment of calm before,

“What the _hell_ were you thinking? You had some of us really worried, what is _wrong_ with you?” Mako demands her voice rising in a contained combustion.

Newton is staring at her in obvious surprise. Hermann sighs, this is his fault.

“Perhaps I should have called...” he begins

“ _Perhaps you should have called,”_ she repeats, her voice controlled.

Dr. Lightcap and Dr. Siddiq are in the doorway looking surprised and possibly ready to intervene. He glances at them and then at Newton.

“I think Ms. Mori and I need a moment,” he says. He stands, grabbing his IV stand and cane. He briefly grasps Newton's hand before turning away from him.

It is awkward to walk with the cane and the IV stand clutched in shaking hands. Never is he more grateful that he managed to convince Dr. Lightcap last night to give him back his trousers. The hospital gown hangs over him as he slowly makes his way out into the hall. The doctors make themselves scarce in a hurry.

As soon as the door swings shut it's just them.

Mako's already lost some of her fire as she stands there in front of him, arms folded, shoulders hunched. He wonders if he looks as tired as he feels.

When she speaks, it's almost a whisper,

“I didn't want to say goodbye to another friend.”

He stands there momentarily silenced by her.

“I'm sorry Mako. There was...there wasn't time.” he says not knowing what else to say.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

He sighs and glances around, another door sits ajar to an empty examination room. He looks at her and nods at the room. She nods and Hermann makes a beeline for the nearest chair. She sits in the one beside it and turns to face him.

“Newton was coerced into drifting with a kaiju...I believe the idea was suggested that...if he didn't do it than I would be forced somehow...”

He paused to glance at her, her mouth was tight.

“I didn't know that's why he had been acting so strange. I followed him and found him in the middle of a drift...he was _seizing_ and he wouldn't have made it if I hadn't--” he cut himself off and the only sound in the room was their breathing.

“I saw how you...I saw how you were with him just now...what happened in there?” she asked. He looked at her with a heated blush and a rueful grin.

“What happened with you and Mr. Beckett, you seem more comfortable now”

It was her turn to blush a little.

“You first,” she said

***

An hour or so later they walked back in to find Raleigh sitting next to Newton's bed.

“Got any threes?” he asked

“No, g-g-go fish, how can you be th-this bad at go f-fish?”

“How can this be the only card game you know?”

“I t-told you I liked W-war but y-y- _you_ said it was boring!” Newton exclaimed throwing his unsteady hands in the air.

“That's because it _is_ boring,” Raleigh insisted evenly without a trace of irony.

They both looked up expectantly as Mako and Hermann stepped into the room. A moment of quiet before Hermann gave the smallest of shrugs and Mako, a tiny smile.

“Oh g-good! I-I-I figured when we h-hadn't heard you for a-ages y-you were either t-t-talking or dead!” Newton exclaimed and Raleigh lightly shoved him before turning to Mako.

“So everything's ok?” he asked her with all the earnest sincerity he had. She looked at all three of them and her smile grew.

“I think it is for right now, yes.”

Raleigh grinned back at her, big and goofy, and she blushed a little.

From across the room Newton looked at Hermann and Hermann nodded.

For right now everything was as close okay as it could ever be.

Then the pair settled on Hermann's gurney to watch Newton and Raleigh continue their game. Eventually Mako would join in and then the three of them would lure Hermann in with the promise of math and numbers.

It was far from perfect.

But it was okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is not the end! We've got one final epilogue style chapter after this.  
> Thank you to everybody who is still reading this quietly or commenting on it. It's been almost a year now and I'm glad people are still enjoying themselves


	38. As The Days Keep Turning Into Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have spent another month debating this ending and where to put commas but I finally said to hell with it. Enjoy the final chapter.

“So where should we hypothetically go?” a stumbling voice asks in a darkened room.

“Well, the world is as they say 'our oyster.' Where would you like to go?” another voice replies.

Newton's room is dark and half packed. They could pack more tomorrow or the next day. There had been a very hands off approach to them ever since they had gotten released from medical. They could stay or go and nobody was going to interfere with that decision.

A day or so ago they had sat in the lab that had been the latest iteration of a temporary home. The lab was always more home than the rooms they barely slept in. But it was still a temporary space, no amount of chalk or equipment could make that sterile space a home.

In the end it was never _really_ theirs. No matter how much it felt like it was.

Newt had been staring at the concrete walls on his side of the lab in a state of solem quiet for several minutes. He had been more prone to quiet ever since waking up.

After the moment passed he turned to Hermann who was standing in front of his wall of mathematics, equally inactive, equally thoughtful;

“I think we should leave, Hermann,”

Hermann didn't even look at him he simply sighed and said, “I agree.”

They had told everybody, but nobody was saying goodbye just yet. There was no rush, and so over the following weeks they packed their lives away one box at a time.

No discussion of _where_ they would go had ever really been discussed until now.

Lying on Newton's bed, so close their foreheads were almost touching.

“We could go to Berlin, be near family?” Newton guesses and Hermann makes a dismissive sound.

“You know full well I don't get along with most of my family and neither do you. We work best from a distance. We could go to Cambridge?”

“Massachusetts?”

“England, you imbecile,”

Newt snorts.

“I think I would do really badly in England dude. Remember your initial reaction to me? Now picture it happening on repeat with the population of an entire country.”

“They aren't all like me,”

“We could go to Australia,”

“Why in heavens would we go to Australia?”

“I don't know dude, kangaroos are _cool_.”

Hermann sighs.

“New Zealand then?”

“Why—oh _gutte gott_ this is because of Lord of the Rings isn't it?”

“The greatest thing cinema has ever produced...don't talk to me about the Hobbit or the Silmarillion movies. They never happened.” Newt exclaims in excitable, stuttering syllables.

Hermann lets out a breath like a laugh. After a moment he reaches over to stroke Newton's hair. They are mere inches apart and Hermann hasn't let go of his smile yet.

“We have time to decide.”

And it's true.

In the coming weeks they will choose their destination and finish their packing, the neat and regimented boxes side by side with the haphazard containers that have to be taped shut. They will say goodbye to everybody. Tendo will only grin and say 'good riddance.' Raleigh will shake their hands. Hercules will rest a hand on their shoulders like the father he used to be and say 'Good luck.' Mako will have a tight hug reserved for Hermann as well as a respectful bow and good wishes for Newton. Caitlin will stand beside Gia, a hand jammed in her pocket and the other raised in a lazy farewell.

Everyone will stand there and watch as their cab drives away.

They will watch the remnants of their found family recede into the distance as new possibilities open up before them.

For now they lie on this bed together, Hermann strokes Newton's hair.

“I don't want to forget any of this Hermann. I never want to forget again. I will remember everything.” Newton says like a resolution, like a promise.

“Everything?” Hermann whispers, thinking of the kaiju, of the drifts, of the screaming in agony, seizures and speech therapy he already hates.

He thinks of the dead. The Kaidonovskys and the Wei triplets. He thinks of Raleigh's brother Yancey, he thinks of the young Chuck Hansen he used to see loitering in the halls outside the Jaeger Bay. He thinks of Stacker, a solid and stolid leader through ten years of hell.

He thinks of poetry and panic attacks. He thinks of the nightmares that plague them both. He thinks of all the memories that aren't his and all the ones that are.

“Everything,” Newton repeats.

“That is an awful lot,” Hermann murmurs and Newton hesitates. He teeters in the edge of the words tripping from his lips.

“I don't think I can forget some of it...even if I wanted too.” he whispers and Hermann scoots a little closer and nods.

“I remember _them...”_ Newton pauses,

“ _All_ of them. I remember what it felt like to know them. I remember what it felt like to die--” he cuts himself off as Hermann rests a hand on his cheek.

“I know” Hermann murmurs and Newton looks at him with ghost filled eyes.

“A creature can't fight it's own nature.” he says in broken syllables.

“I know,” Hermann says to him and the ghosts in his eyes.

“I know.”

And he does know because Hermann carries his own ghosts in his eyes and in his bones. They share ghosts between them like they share everything else.

They're both so haunted.

The future of a life after an apocalypse looks as difficult as one might expect.

There are the ghosts and the past and the nightmares. There's the pain in the present, the fights and the gentle words to fix it afterwards. There are new sights and new opportunities. Choices and chances. A map of the path and the mistakes they will make on it.

The future looks full and terrifying but they have somebody to share it with.

And that's something worth remembering.

 

The End

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was tempted to put something really stupid like 'The Beginning' but I'm not that far up my own ass.
> 
> For this chapter the title comes from previously mentioned "All My Days" by Alexi Murdoch. Along with that song I highly recommend How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful by Florence + The Machine for musical backdrop while reading.
> 
> So what is there to say. It's been just shy of a year writing this. It's the first time I've finished a long story and I've learned a lot doing it. And I swear to god if I didn't have you guys telling me how much you were enjoying it I might have given up on this a few times. Your feedback has been a constant pleasure while writing this, from the long reviews to the straight up keysmashing. 
> 
> I can safely say I am proud of a lot of this and I'm a little sad to be done with it


End file.
